


Love It or List It

by TalesFromPerdition



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Designer!Dean, F/M, Interior Decorating, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reality TV, Realtor!Cas, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesFromPerdition/pseuds/TalesFromPerdition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel are the co-hosts of a semi-popular HGTV show called "Love It or List It." However, they might have bitten off more than they can chew when they take on Sam's house. Can Dean renovate his brother's home so that Sam and Jess will love it again, or will Castiel find the growing family their new dream home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions), Jill (somanyjimifeels)  
> My Tumblr: talesfromperdition
> 
> Notes: This fic was inspired by the HGTV show "Love It or List It" in which a designer renovates a home to get the family to stay and a realtor tries to find the family a new house to move into.

  **Chapter 1**

Most of the members of the build team were already there when Dean and Castiel walked into the bar. Dean pumped his fist into the air – a cocky grin on his face – and the rest of the construction guys and camera crew started to applaud. Castiel rolled his eyes, moving away from his friend and toward the bar, but Dean just wrapped his arm around his shoulders, guiding him there instead. Used to the production, the team turned their attention away from the show's stars and back to one another.

"Parents never want to move their kids out of their school zone, Cas," Dean said, still full of smiles at his victory. "It's one thing to take them over budget, but to take them an hour away? Yeah, right."

"You should have seen that house, Dean," Castiel frowned, trying to shrug his friend's arm off. Dean grinned and held him tighter. The look the dark haired man gave him was forced – a fake, angry glare – but Dean knew Castiel didn't really mind. If the realtor had won, he would be doing the same to the designer.

Dean and Castiel had been friends before they were signed onto the show,  _"Love it or List it,"_  but only because both of them knew Sam. Even though it had always been Castiel's goal to be a Realtor, he still went to college on his parents' dime. Unlike the Winchesters, Castiel had come from money. He ended up being Sam's roommate – who was going for pre-law but knew he would end up doing construction with his dad after graduation anyway – and Castiel and Dean had met that first weekend of school.

There was a bit of a rivalry right out of the gate.

Dean, although he was a talented carpenter himself, had moved their father's company away from starting brand new houses and more toward the remodeling tract. At first, the three Winchesters simply remodeled houses, but when Dean found out he had an eye for interior design, they started making significantly more money when they stopped leaving a room bare and investing some of their renovation budget into furniture as well.

" _Love it or List it"_ started as an project in one of Castiel and Sam's shared business classes; Sam was confident that Dean could make a couple love their old home again with renovation, but Castiel was sure he could get the couple to move to a different house that better suited them.

It had been hypothetical, of course. It was just an exercise in money management, but still, the idea stuck.

The show didn't actually take off until years later. After graduation, Castiel and the Winchesters had stayed in touch – all three of them lived in the same neighborhood in the same city – but years went by before anything became of Dean and Castiel's rivalry. After the death of their father, Dean and Sam were looking for something different. They pitched the idea to Home and Garden Television, and Castiel dropped a million dollar client to sign on.

That had been five years ago. Even though they had done over a hundred shows, the rivalry was still intact, even if the prize remained the same as their first days: loser had to buy the winner a drink after the show.

Castiel leaned his elbows on the bar, looking over the liquor. "Did you want a bottle of wine?"

"Come on, Cas, after all this time, you have to know what I like for my victory drink," Dean grinned, pulling out his phone from his pocket. "I get you wine, you get me whiskey."

"I just always think you'll magically become more cultured after a win," Castiel said, nodding at the bartender when he walked up. He ordered Dean's whiskey – something expensive from the top shelf – and got himself a glass of wine. Just because he was a gracious loser, he also got Dean a glass of snooty, fancy beer, and Dean couldn't help but smile at his co-host.

They'd been friends for ten years, working together for five, but it still surprised Dean that the realtor had managed to get under his skin and lodge himself there so comfortably. They both had a talent for reading people – in their line of business, their egos were often put aside by a frustrated client – but sometimes, Dean was sure he knew Castiel better than he knew Sam.

Sam had been quiet for the past week, taking Dean's orders silently – which was something that never happened – but they had been so busy putting the finishing touches on the house that the brothers hadn't gotten a chance to talk. There would be time tonight on the cab ride back to their neighborhood.

But for now, Dean held up his phone, catching Castiel by surprised when the realtor turned around, holding Dean's whiskey and beer. He frowned as Dean snapped the picture, and rolled his eyes when the designer ignored his alcohol in favor of his phone.

"This was a really good picture of you," Dean teased. "You always take the most adorable loser photos."

Castiel frowned, saying, "At least I'm adorable. You look like a kicked puppy when you lose." Dean grinned at him, even though he had enough loser photos of his own to know that it was sort of true, and he pocketed his phone, taking his drinks from his friend and leading the both of them back to the rest of the cast and crew.

Dean sat down next to his brother. Sam's beer glass was already empty, and the normally talkative man was sitting quietly, hand around the glass, looking at it as if he wasn't really seeing it. A second later, Dean felt Castiel sit down next to him – sitting his bottle of wine and two glasses down before settling in his chair, knee knocking against Dean's – and Sam still didn't look up from his glass to acknowledge either of them.

Even when Castiel poured both glasses and held one out to the younger Winchester, Sam remained lost, only turning to face his friends when Castiel called his name.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Sam said, taking the glass. Castiel took a sip of his own wine, raising his eyebrows at Sam in silent question. "I've just had a lot on my mind this past week."

"Trouble in paradise?" Dean joked, but when Sam just sighed and turned his attention to swirling the liquid around the wine glass, Dean looked at Castiel. The realtor's eyes were huge, shocked, and he took another large sip of his wine. The elder Winchester turned back to his brother. "Sam? You and Jess had a fight?"

"What?" Sam turned back to his friends, looking from Dean's concerned face to Castiel's large, worried eyes and he forced a small chuckle. "No, we didn't fight. It's nothing like that."

"You realize that you're the only one of the three of us who has ever been able to hold a relationship, right?" Dean said, tipping the top shelf whiskey back and drinking it in one go.

"It's true," Castiel chimed in. "What hope do us mere mortals have if the two of you are fighting?"

"We aren't fighting," Sam sighed, again. He turned back to his wine. The last time Jess and Sam had fought, it had been a minor disagreement about flower arrangements at their wedding. They had been a rock solid couple since they met in college. "We're pregnant."

For a minute, Dean was silent, trying to process the words. They seemed to be Greek, like it took some deep, thoughtful translation. When it clicked, Dean was grinning, standing up to wrap his arms around his brother. The rest of the cast and crew – those who had overheard anyway, were all applauding – and Castiel was standing up as well, waiting his turn to congratulate his best friend.

The reaction at least had Sam smiling, if a little frazzled, but after handshakes and hugs, Dean could see the joy slipping from Sam again as he sat back down. Once again, he and Castiel shared a look, before they turned their attention back to Sam.

"You're nervous?" Castiel asked, and Sam looked up at him.

"I'm terrified. I don't think my genes are all the best for parenting. Look at my dad…"

"Hey, dad, did the best he could after mom died," Dean said, out of habit more than out of necessity or honesty, and for once, Sam didn't fight it. "And screw him, anyway, Sammy. You're going to be a terrific dad. There's nothing to worry about."

"Well," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, there is. See, when Jess and I moved into that house, I promised her I would do a bunch of work on it. Then dad died, and then the show got started, and I never really had time to do it." Sam looked back into his wine glass. "And now she wants to move to a move-in ready house."

"Your house _is_  move-in ready," Dean insisted. "Sure, the kitchen is dated –"

"Ugly," Castiel clarified.

"And it doesn't have an open concept or hardwood floors, but dude, you have history there. You have memories there."

Castiel leaned forward, looking around Dean at Sam. "I could find you a move-in ready home."

"Sam isn't moving," Dean said, perhaps louder than he meant to, and turned to glare at Castiel. Never one to back down, Castiel glared right back. "I can renovate his house for him. I can add a sweet new nursery and an office for Jess. That house has a lot of space and he isn't fully utilizing the rooms."

"That's because the basement isn't finished, Dean," Castiel said. "That house is going to cost a lot of money to fix up to meet their needs, but he could sell it and help finance a more appropriate home for his growing family."

"I don't want him to move," Dean hissed. "He lives right down the street from me, Cas. If you find him a place, you're going to move him into a different state."

The hosts were glaring at each other, friendship forgotten in a moment of rivalry, and neither of them noticed the way many members of the cast and crew had fallen silent, watching the bickering with some interest. Money exchanged hands – it wasn't uncommon for their friends to bet on the outcome of their fights – and even though it was Sam's problem to begin with, he was the only one brave enough to step between the pair of them.

"Guys, it's fine," Sam said, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder. The elder Winchester continued to stare Castiel down, refusing to be the one who looked away first. "Jess and I have a couple of months to decide what we're going to do. She isn't that far along yet, and…"

Castiel's eyes never left Dean's when he said, "Yes, but later into the pregnancy, she won't be able to lift heavy objects due to the fact that her center of gravity will shift, not to mention the hormones involved with pregnancy cause tissues and ligaments to soften, which could result in her injuring herself if she tried to lift heavy loads. Therefore, if you are going to move, it is safest for her to do that as soon as possible."

The tension in the room seemed to dissipate as Dean turned to look at Sam. When the brothers turned back to Castiel, Dean asked, "How do you possibly know that?"

"I have a lot of brothers and sisters," Castiel said, breaking eye contact in favor of pouring himself some more wine. "Military brat, remember? We moved a lot."

"Well, either way," Dean said. "Sam doesn't want to move, so…"

"I'm not against moving, Dean," Sam said. "I just want what's best for our family. I'm not married to the house, but I like living close to both of you. I like the park that's across the street from our block, and the school district we live in is excellent. I wouldn't want to move far away."

"You might not have to," Castiel said. "Our neighborhood is an up-and-coming development and with the way markets are right now, there are several listings within a five block radius between the park and the school that haven't been sold yet."

"Yeah, but Sam, I can make your house work for you again," Dean begged. "All I would need is…"

"You two need to shut up," Kevin, head of the production team, said. He was sitting a table away with most of the camera crew, and he rubbed his head as he looked at them. "If it's such a big deal, we'll make it part of the show."

"Uh, no, Kevin. We're alright, really," Sam started, but Dean grinned.

"No, Sammy, this will be awesome. That way, we'll have the time to actually do your house, and I will get another public victory."

"Actually, what will happen is that Dean will increase the overall value of your home, which will help your budget with the resale," Castiel said, and Dean rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to form a come-back, but Sam stopped him.

"Look, I'll talk to Jess tonight, okay? I'll see what she wants to do about it. But I'll tell you right now, guys, we're not going to do this if it's just going to make the two of you fight. A little on-screen rivalry is one thing, but you haven't really fought since the time we remodeled Cas' mom's kitchen, and I cannot have a repeat of that."

Dean looked down into his beer, and with a quick look at Castiel, he was glad he had the common sense to look ashamed as well.

"If the two of you  _promise_  that you won't get too wrapped up in winning and actually want to help us, then I'll talk to Jess about it. But seriously, I can't go back to college."

"We promise, Sam," Dean said.

Castiel added, "We just want to help."

"Alright," Sam said.

For a moment, the Winchesters and Castiel sat quietly. Soon enough, Dean and Castiel both got their phones out – Dean drawing up a rough layout of Sam's first floor on the app he used for remodeling, and Castiel logging on to whatever site he used to find listings – and Sam sighed again.

After a second, Castiel's phone went off. Dean turned to look at him, and Castiel frowned and shoved his phone in Dean's face.

"Why do you always put my loser faces on twitter?" Castiel demanded.

Dean laughed. "Well, my followers think you're cute when you lose. What can I say?"

"I hate you," Castiel said, but without any real venom.

This time, when Sam sighed, Dean completely ignored it. He already knew exactly what Sam was thinking, and he didn't want to hear it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Castiel couldn't sleep, but that wasn't anything new. He always had a difficult time falling asleep.

When he was a kid, he had a hard time sleeping because there were too many people in his house still awake, making noise. When he went to college, he slept the best he ever had in his life. He loved sharing a room with Sam. He struggled to sleep in his apartment after college because he was so used to having other people around him constantly that he ended up feeling too alone.

He was the only realtor he knew who had an apartment. It was cheap, and he could afford much better, but why bother? He spent as little time in the apartment as possible. He researched properties at his office, on the sites of other properties – properties he had enough money to get, but lacked what he needed the most – or in cafes. He also had a spare key to Sam's place because his best friend and his wife were among the few who knew about his sleeping problems.

More often than not, Castiel would set up shop in Sam's guest bedroom. Jess would always bring him coffee in the morning.

Tonight, Castiel was lying on his back in his own apartment, staring at the ugly, stucco ceilings. He realized that he didn't want Sam to move.

If Sam and Jess agreed to take part in the show as clients, he would have to be the one who tried to convince them to leave, but right now, Castiel barely had to walk two blocks to get to Sam's. If he could keep them in a five blocks radius, it would be nothing, but Castiel also knew it would be a very real possibility that they wouldn't like any of those houses.

Castiel had brought people to houses an hour away before. People move away all the time.

He felt panicked and sick when he knew he had no right to feel that way.

Castiel threw the covers off the bed and let his feet hit the cool floor. It wasn't bad now, in June, but it was terrible in January. Dean had told him a thousand times that he should put a rug down, but Castiel always figured that knowing the room was going to be cold would keep him in bed.

It didn't work.

Castiel padded, barefoot, to the kitchen.

Even though it was three in the morning, he figured it was late enough to give up on the night before and start the next day. When he sat down at the table and opened his laptop, his cat suddenly appeared in the kitchen. He hopped effortlessly up to the table – something Castiel should have trained him not to do, but enjoyed nonetheless – and moved toward the human.

"Good morning, Balthazar," Castiel greeted, just to feel less alone, and the cat looked at him with a blank expression, one that the human took to be judgmental. Balthazar knew it wasn't morning yet, that Castiel should still be asleep, and the human felt chastised by his cat.

Still, he reached his hand out, and Balthazar walked toward him, purring as he rubbed against Castiel's hand.

Checking his email, Castiel saw he had a contract already waiting for him – Sam and Jess must have agreed to do the show already – and while they wouldn't start filming yet, the four of them would have to go over all the legal stuff in the morning. If nothing else, it would give Castiel something to do.

Castiel loved being a realtor, he really did, but the show ate up so much of his time that he wasn't able to really have outside clients. For the most part, he didn't mind because unless they were between episodes, he wasn't usually bored.

Technically not between episodes anymore, he  _could_  start looking up houses for Sam and Jess.

But he didn't want them to move.

In the back of his mind, his dad's voice was telling him to open one of the bottles of wine he had chilling in the wine fridge he had bought – one of the few things he'd spent his money on since he moved into the apartment – but he equally knew taking advice from his father's voice in his head was a terrible idea.

And he knew Dean would tell him that he was abusing alcohol if he drank to cope with something. Drinking for fun was fine, but if a person were drinking to help himself sleep, or to escape a problem, or to forget, then that was when alcohol became dangerous. Dean would know; his dad was an alcoholic, and after the man died, Dean himself flirted with the problematic sides of alcohol.

Even knowing Dean was right, the only thing worse than his father's voice in his head was Dean's.

He should walk over to Sam's. It was only a little past three in the morning, and Castiel knew that three or four hours of sleep was better than none, but knowing Sam could be leaving – that it would be Castiel's fault that Sam would be leaving – left him feeling like he was betraying both the Winchesters and himself.

He couldn't go to Sam's, and there was no way in hell he would go to Dean's.

The realtor promised himself a long time ago that he would never run to Dean in a moment of weakness. He couldn't trust himself, and he was intimidated by his friend.

Castiel brought Netflix up on his computer and moved to the living room. By the time he pulled a blanket out to wrap around his shoulders – central air was a miracle, but blankets were comforting – Balthazar had jumped down from the table and crawled up to the human. He would sleep through the movie, Castiel knew he would, but his warmth and his purring were enough company for the night. It would be alright.

After all, that was all Castiel had.

* * *

It was a cosmic joke, Dean knew, being a home decorator who lived in apartment he was unable to renovate, but there was no need to have a house when he had nobody to decorate for but himself. When he first converted the family business from contracting to renovation and design, Dean knew that girls would be impressed with his keen eye. He imagined he'd find a girl and settle down – that he and Sam would renovate the whole place from top to bottom to please his new wife – and they'd pop out kids with similar tastes.

Women did seem to love that he was more than his jeans and plaid, more than his car and classical music. They were impressed, and maybe a bit shocked, when they saw how talented he was, considering he didn't seem to look the part.

But the second they found out what he did, they always became far more interested in his work than they were in him as a person. It took him two years before Sam finally pitied him enough to tell him why he had such shitty luck: the girls always assumed he was gay the second they found out what he did.

Needless to say, Dean was pissed. Sure, he was into guys, but that didn't mean he was any less into girls. Hell, he might have been slightly more into girls for most of his life – his desire for a family trumped even his most amazing nights with other guys – but since the show started, he hadn't been able to think about settling down with anyone.

The show left him way too busy for a family.

Even though he was technically the designer and Sam was the lead contractor, Dean did just as much demolition and rebuilding as his brother. To be honest, Dean wasn't a talented negotiator, and after he chose the flooring, layout, counters, and colors, it was up to his assistant Jo to actually acquire all the items.

Jo was ferocious, and she had saved them time and money on more than one occasion.

So Dean was way too busy to have a relationship, and he told himself that over and over again, because it was easier than the truth. And the truth was that he was lying in bed, turned away from the TV with his phone in his hand, reading through the twitter responses he'd gotten on the picture of Castiel he had put up before.

It was a good picture, but Dean wondered if Castiel could take a bad picture. Despite the fact that he had been trying for ten years, Dean had never succeeded in getting an embarrassing photo of his friend. At his worst, Castiel looked angry or sad, which made the man look like a sex god or completely adorable. At his best, Castiel was smiling – maybe with his eyes narrowed in slight confusion – and then, the man morphed into this insanely handsome, bring-him-home-to-meet-the-folks type of attractive.

In fact, Castiel was one of the few people Dean did bring home to meet John before he died, even though he was technically only picking Castiel up from the airport over summer break and driving him to their family home so he could hang out with the Sam for a week. But still.

Dean was totally not in love with his co-host, and he hadn't been for years. Honestly.

Most of the comments on twitter involved people congratulating Dean on the victory or commenting on how attractive the man looked in the dim light of the bar. Dean wouldn't respond to any of them. There was nothing he could really say to any of them while he was still buzzing from the bar without embarrassing himself.

Or worse, embarrassing Castiel.

From the time he met Castiel, his friend was practically engaged to this girl his mother picked out for him. She was a pretty redhead named Anna, who had gone to his church and grown up next door to him. They were never on-again-off-again – they never dated at all – but it was the closest thing Castiel had ever had to a significant other in the past ten years. At the beginning, Dean wasn't too subtle about his attraction for his brother's roommate, but Castiel had never returned the sentiment, so Dean backed off.

The elder Winchester assumed his attraction would die away, but here he was, ten years later, reading other people's comments on how hot they thought his co-host was.

And Sam was no help. His advice hadn't changed in ten years, either. He needed to tell Castiel how he felt, but Dean didn't want to hear it. There was no way Castiel was that thick – the man was practically a genius as well as a mind-reader – and Dean wasn't going to embarrass himself by putting himself out there anymore than he already had.

Instead, Dean would waste his nights alone, sketching and re-sketching different layouts for his future dream house. He wouldn't incorporate things he knew Castiel would love: a giant office with a ton of bookshelves, a playroom just for his stupid cat, dark hardwood floors throughout the house (but lighter tiles in the kitchen to offset the darker cabinets, counters, and eat-in kitchen). Honestly, Dean wasn't even sure he knew what Castiel would like in his own house; the man lived in apartment, for God's sakes.

He came from money, and he made a decent amount from the show. His car was paid off, and he never had student loans. Dean wasn't sure what Castiel was saving for.

Maybe, he was saving for Anna.

Someday, Dean knew the three of them wouldn't live within walking distance of each other. Jess would convince Sam to move, Castiel would move back to his hometown to marry a nice girl his family approved of, and Dean would be left here, alone.

After all, his work really kept him too busy to date.

Dean rolled over, plugged in his phone, and went to bed.

* * *

Sam obviously knew the drill. He'd signed enough contracts for the show to know what it meant for him as a contractor. Usually, there was some lengthy, expensive problem in the house and the legal documents stated that the show (and Dean specifically), wasn't allowed to leave harmful or potentially dangerous things in the house to save money. He was legally bound by the show's insurance to replace or repair any damage that they would find.

They found some sort of damage with every house, and Sam was realistic.

Their house was large, but it was old. He could practically guarantee that there would be damage with the clay pipes under the house; they had a tree in their yard, and likely the roots would have grown through it. He was pretty sure there wasn't any asbestos in the house, but he'd also seen wet basements where the foundation was literally being eaten away. And his basement flooded somewhat regularly.

Anything could happen. Sam understood the dangers and the potential costs.

Jess was still talking it over with the lawyers, but Sam was only half paying attention. Neither Dean nor Castiel were at the office yet, and considering Castiel wasn't in the guest room, Sam could only guess at what kind of night he had. It wasn't a secret – not really – but it was something he tried to keep quiet from the cast and crew. While some days he came to work looking like the living dead, the make-up people could work magic.

Even Dean didn't know how badly Castiel's sleeping habits had gotten lately. Mostly because Castiel begged Sam not to tell. The last time Dean realized his co-host had a hard time sleeping, Dean insisted that they take a break from filming so Castiel could go home and see his family.

And that never helped the realtor sleep.

So Sam agreed to keep quiet if Castiel promised to take care of himself. When the realtor finally did walk through the doors of the office, Sam left Jess with the lawyers to meet him by Charlie's desk. The younger Winchester didn't mean to grab him by the arm and manhandle him into his office, but that was what happened anyway.

"I'm fine," Castiel said as soon as Sam got the doors shut, but he moved to his couch, sitting his coffee on the table, and flopping down gracelessly onto it, curling onto his side and shutting his eyes. "Balthazar kept me awake all night with his…"

"You don't have to lie to me, Cas," Sam said, sitting down on the chair next to the couch. His friend's sleeping problems were strange. There were certain places Castiel could sleep comfortably – Sam's guest bedroom, his office couch in the city – and Sam never understood why the man wouldn't dip into his substantial savings to find a place where he felt more comfortable. "Dude, you have to find yourself a better spot."

"I like my apartment," Castiel insisted. "It's close to you and Jess and…" The man trailed off, but Sam knew who the third person was. They were unbearable sometimes.

"I might be moving. What are you going to do when you find us the perfect house? You won't be able to walk to my house to sleep anymore," Sam reached his hand out, ruffling his friend's hair. Normally, the man would swat his hand away, but he didn't even move from his curled up position to defend himself.

"I'll find you a house with an attached apartment. You can be my landlord."

"I can't believe you've been living like this for years, Cas," Sam admitted. "This is so not healthy. You understand that, right?"

"I don't like living alone."

"Then get a roommate. Hell, get out there and date someone. Before you know it you'll be moving in with them, getting married, having little Miltons running around everywhere."

"Ugh," Castiel rolled over, opening his eyes to frown at Sam. "I had enough of little Miltons running around everywhere to last me a lifetime already."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Cas," Sam grinned. "You were among the youngest."

"Among," Castiel repeated. "I had several younger brothers and sisters, and even more elder ones. The only thing worse than the pitter patter of noisy feet was the loud screaming matches between my brothers and my father. No more Miltons. If I never see another Milton in my life it would be too soon." It was said with an air of finality, and he shut his eyes when he was done, as if he were putting an end to the conversation.

"You'll still come see our kid, though, right?" Sam asked, putting his elbows on his knees and pressing his hands together.

At that, Castiel sat up. Although it looked exhausting, he made the effort to turn and face Sam, even going so far as to put a smile on his face. "Your kid won't be a Milton. Trust me. I didn't sleep with your wife, and none of my brothers have set foot in this city for the past few months." Sam rolled his eyes, and Castiel laughed. "Of course, Sam. I am happy for you. You'll make an amazing father."

"Better than mine, anyway," Sam admitted, throwing in an awkward shrug. Castiel nodded; their less-than-perfect fathers had always been a bonding point between the two of them. "So, we're not going to be filming today, but you might want to at least check the mirror out."

"You and Jess have seen me worse," Castiel said with a yawn. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Everyone in this office has seen me worse."

"True," Sam admitted. "But Dean's got to sign the stuff too. He's on his way."

Sam could see the reaction in his friend, even though Castiel thought he was hiding it. He tensed, a hand going to his hair to smooth it down without him even being aware of it. It was kind of funny, Sam thought. Castiel insisted he liked going to make-up before he met up with Dean in the morning because he didn't want his friend accusing him of not sleeping. The last thing Castiel wanted was to go back home.

But Sam wasn't an idiot. He watched the way Castiel stood – suddenly full of energy – and made his way to the bathroom attached to his office. There was a difference between wanting to look like he had slept verses dolling himself up.

Castiel always dolled himself up for Dean.

"If you can't sleep tonight," Sam called through the bathroom door. "Come over, okay? It's why we gave you a key."

"I  _know,_  Sam," Castiel called back, and the younger Winchester left the realtor's office.

Dean was chatting with the Charlie – she was technically the secretary for the realtor's in the office; however, she was more of an IT guru who also happened to answer the phones – but when he saw Sam walking out of Castiel's office, he moved toward his brother. Sam met him halfway, grinning.

Sam wasn't the idiot here. The idiots were the co-hosts of the show.

Dean always got dressed up to meet new clients, but there wasn't exactly a need for him to put that much effort into it when it was just Sam and Jess. His suit was one of his expensive, tailored ones. He had on dress shoes, a vest, the works, and the tie Castiel had given him for Christmas one year. Green, Sam remembered Castiel saying as Dean opened the box. To match his eyes.

Freaking idiots.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said, stuffing a hand into his pocket. "Cas in there?"

"Yeah. He'll be a while though," Sam grinned. "If you're planning your big confessional, you might want to wait until he's had his coffee. He's not really a morning person."

Dean frowned, "There is no confession, you jackass."

"That tie really brings out your eyes."

"Shut up," Dean said, touching his tie like he was suddenly self conscious of it. Sam took pity on him and didn't mention it again. Instead, the Winchesters just walked into the meeting room and sat down with Jess, the producers, and the lawyers.

But Sam wasn't an idiot, and he saw the way Dean looked at Castiel when he walked in a couple of minutes later with a coffee mug for each of them. And he definitely didn't miss the way Castiel looked at Dean when the man took a sip of the coffee and mentioned how good it was, how Castiel had made it perfectly, just like Dean liked it.

Even though he was supposed to be listening to the same spiel he had heard a hundred times, Sam couldn't help but think that he was getting a pretty good deal from his brother and his best friend. Sure, he had to pay for the renovations and the new house, but without the show, Sam wouldn't have time to do his own repairs or look for a house. They were actually giving him a pretty big blessing here.

Maybe it was time for him to give something back to the co-hosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions)  
> My Tumblr: talesfromperdition


	3. Chapter 3

 

**Chapter 3**

The team usually had a week or two break in between shoots, but because Sam and Jess were jumping ahead of other people they had lined up, they barely had a day off. It didn't matter much to either of the co-hosts. Prior to the show, they worked even more often than they currently did.

Regardless, the first day of shooting was always boring for everyone except the camera crew and the family. They were usually excited about hair and make-up; they liked pretending to be television stars. As the lead contractor, Sam was featured on the show more than once with his hair pulled back and covered in sweat and debris from demolishing the house. He never had to sit for make-up before. At first, he protested the star treatment. Jess tried to tell him he was being ridiculous, but it was the small smirks Dean and Castiel couldn't hide behind their phones – renovation app and house listings sites, respectively – that ultimately got Sam to sit down and shut up.

Without having to explain the set up to a family who wasn't aware of the procedures, the camera crew wasted no time jumping into Sam and Jess' house, building up enough shots to have plenty to choose from for the before and after.

The voiceover would be added later, telling the audience things that the co-hosts already knew like that the couple had bought the house right before they got married five years ago, that they were expecting their first child, and that Jess wanted to find a new house to fit their family, while Sam wanted to stay.

Next, lighting was set up in the living room to give Sam and Jess a place to do their diary confessionals. They talked about what worked with their house and what didn't work. They were full of good-natured banter but not pushing it too far into the awkward and rude anger that some frustrated couples seemed to go into. Technically, neither Dean nor Castiel had to be there for this part of the filming, but both of them were standing off camera, lending silent support.

After the couple had their say, some of the crew stayed behind to get even more shots of the house, while Dean, Castiel, Sam, and Jess had to start filming the next portion of the show. Usually, they went to some restaurant that the couple picked out in the neighborhood. It was usually upscale and classy. Castiel would have a glass of wine, Dean would have a beer, and they would discuss the must-have list for staying and going.

Jo threatened to kill Sam if he chose any place other than the Roadhouse. So that's where the crew ended up.

Even though it was obvious for both of the co-hosts that this episode would be very different from others, considering their close attachment to the couple at hand, it really hit home when Ellen met them at the door. Sure, the Roadhouse wasn't as classy as their usual restaurants, but everyone felt comfortable here.

"Oh, shit," Ellen said, putting her hands on Dean's shoulders, but not moving in to hug him. "That filming thing's today?"

"Ha, ha," Dean said, patting her arm. She left Dean and moved on to Castiel. The pair of them hugged, and Castiel kissed the woman's cheek. Dean unbuttoned his suit jacket. "You saved us our table, right?"

"Dean Winchester, it's two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and this is a bar," Ellen said, moving on to Sam and then Jess in turn. It was like she didn't see them a couple of times a week. Jo had told Dean that Ellen was just happy they chose her place to hold the meeting. It's not like the restaurant slash bar did poorly or anything, but a TV promotion never hurt. "Of course your table's free, you dumbass. And you're eating something before you start drinking. Your dad would kill me if I let you drink this early in the day on an empty stomach."

They made their way to the table and sat down, Dean and Castiel on one side, Sam and Jess on the other. She put menus down in front of them, but nobody made a move for them. "Come on, Ellen. We're on schedule. Plus, you know dad wouldn't care about us drinking… he never cared about shit like that."

"Castiel, have you eaten yet today?" Ellen asked, and when the dark-haired man picked up his menu and handed it back to her, she smiled. "That's what I thought. Sam and Jess?" When they did the same, Dean sighed.

"Fine, Ellen. We'll eat. But when production yells at us, I'm telling them to call you."

As Ellen was taking the crew's orders – who looked a lot happier about a lunch break than Dean let on – Castiel said, "We could probably film this before our food gets here."

With everyone in agreement, even if their stomachs were growling, the crew got out their cameras and started setting up shop. It didn't take long, and while they were waiting, Dean reminded Sam and Jess what they were doing, out of habit more than necessity.

"Okay, basically, we're going to ask for your must-haves to stay and leave," Dean said. Ash, one of the guys who worked at the bar, brought over their drinks, but they were left on the table, untouched. "There'll be a minimal amount of witty banter from me, and Cas'll act like a dick, then we'll eat. Sound good?"

Castiel rolled his eyes at his friend, and Dean couldn't help the grin that spread over his face.

"All set," Harry said from behind the camera.

And even though it was unnecessary, Ed said, "Action."

"Unlike most clients we work with," Castiel started. Dean took a sip of his beer. "Both Dean and I have been in your house. We've also both looked at the specs, so we know some of the issues. That being said, what are your must haves to get you out of your current home?"

Sam grabbed a piece of paper and handed it over to his friend. For production's sake, they would be read and listed on a voice over, but Castiel read them aloud, for the cast and crew's benefit.

"Alright. It has to be move-in ready with four bedrooms and three baths; has a large, eat-in kitchen; an office for Jess; a finished basement; have off-street parking, and all of this has to be in your current neighborhood," Castiel said, putting the paper down.

"Yeah, good luck with all that, Cas," Dean snorted. "Why four bedrooms though, Jess? Planning on popping out a whole bunch of little Winchesters?"

"Maybe," Jess said, patting her belly even though she wasn't showing yet. "And we need a guest bedroom."

"You have guests over?" Dean asked, frowning at the couple and ignoring the way Castiel finished off his glass of wine with a few large gulps, moving his hand to signal Ash for more. "Who?"

"The only point in moving out of our current house is to have a lot more space, Dean. Why do you care what we use it for?" Sam sighed. "Just keep going or our food's going to be here."

Dean quieted down as Ash made his way back over to the table. He grinned as he poured Castiel's second glass, but the realtor didn't touch it. Instead, he waited for Ash to get out of the shot, put on a pleasant, TV-personality smile and said, "That's the list I'm going to be using to find your next dream home."

Jess matched Castiel's fake smile and said, "I sure hope so."

"What I need is your must-haves so that I can convince you to stay," Dean continued. It was Jess who took out the paper this time, handing it to her brother-in-law. Just as Castiel did before him, Dean read the list aloud. "Create an open concept main floor, remodel the kitchen, finish the basement, and add a powder-room to the first floor."

"And you thought my list was long," Castiel said.

"Mine only has four things on it," Dean insisted, waving the paper in the space between them.

"Four expensive things," the realtor added.

Dean grinned at Castiel and said, "Well, yeah, it's going to be work," he looked past his co-host to look at his brother and sister-in-law. "But I'm sure that when I'm done, you're going to love it."

"What really is going to happen is that I'm going to find you two your ideal house to raise a family in," Castiel said, "and the only thing you'll be able to say is –"

"List it," Ellen said, walking up behind Dean and Castiel to put their food down in front of them. She grinned at Sam and winked. "I love it when they say that."

Sam and Jess started laughing, but Dean and Castiel were already dropping their banter in favor of their burgers. When Ellen gave the married couple their food, she looked past the camera to the crew. "How is it, Ed?"

"Fantastic as always," Dean called out with his mouth full, grinning up at the woman.

She frowned at him, "I wasn't asking you, Winchester. Keep your trap shut when you're eating." She walked away from their table and back to the crew.

Ed and Harry might have gotten in trouble for leaving the camera rolling on the hosts, Sam, and Jess eating for the next thirty minutes, but the footage was golden and would have made a great feature on their website if there was less swearing involved.

* * *

When lunch was over, Sam and Jess headed back to the city to go over more paperwork involving the hotel they'd be staying at while the renovations were happening. Dean and Castiel went back to Sam's house so they could film the walk-through tour. Ed and Harry were getting everyone situated – technically, the two of them worked under Kevin, but they liked to think they were more than just cameramen and the boss wasn't afraid to yell at them if they were messing something up, so they were given a lot of free reign for what their job technically was – and Dean and Castiel were standing down the street from the house, waiting for their cue to get to their marks.

"Do I have anything in my teeth?" Dean asked, offering Castiel a big, toothy smile.

The realtor shook his head, a soft smile playing on his face. "You kind of smell like onions though."

"Bitches love onions," Dean retorted, moving closer to Castiel to fix his tie. "I saw the make-up girls flocking all over you. Why do they always leave your tie messed up?"

Castiel looked away from his friend's face, his eyes glancing over to where the girls were watching them. He had a pretty good idea why the girls always left his tie messed up. "I'm not sure."

"How is it that you can't tie a tie, Cas?" Dean continued, much like he always did. "I mean, you've been a realtor for like, ten years, right? And before that you were a member of a snooty Christian family. You had to wear ties to church didn't you?"

"I did," he said, narrowing his eyes at his friend. "But my brothers never taught me how, so I had to teach myself. Anna used to fix it for me. She never taught me, either."

Dean moved his hands away from his co-host, his eyes moving from the tie to Castiel's face. For a moment, the pair of them just looked at each other, before Dean sighed and took a step back. "Well, then I'll teach you."

"Sure," Castiel said, but it didn't sound like he was agreeing.

"I mean it. A grown-ass man should know how to tie his tie."

"Alright, Cas," Harry called. "Time to get to your car."

Castiel nodded, walking around Dean to move back up the street. In their earlier seasons, they only showed the pair of them walking up to the house from opposite directions, but Dean had insisted that they started showing them getting out of their cars. It happened to coincide with Castiel's purchase of a Lexus Hybrid – one of the few things he spent his money on outside his rent, food, and wine – but everyone knew Dean just wanted to show off his baby.

Ed was filming Dean's emergence from the car, and Harry was filming Cas'. They rarely needed more than one take of the co-hosts walking toward each other, thank God. It was awkward. Both Dean and Castiel were actors, of sorts. Castiel the Realtor was a very different person than just Cas, and it was similar with Dean. They didn't argue and bicker nearly as much in real life as they did on the show.

When the two of them met at the sidewalk leading to the house, the two of them turned and walked toward Sam and Jess' place together.

Usually, it was Castiel's job to tear the place apart, while Dean was supposed to see some great potential. It was different, obviously, with Sam's house. Both of the co-hosts had history here. For example, they both could remember the blistering summer that Sam and Jess moved in; it was the only time in their long friendship that Castiel remembered seeing Dean in shorts. Dean could remember the work that they did on the house before they started the show and didn't have time to work on it anymore. Castiel remembered creeping up the stairs in the middle of the night, seeking a sanctuary.

It was difficult for either of them to look at the house objectively. And it was obvious when they took their first step inside. It was quiet at first, almost a somber moment, before Castiel took a deep breath in and opened his arms, gesturing to the living room. The space was oddly shaped, perhaps eight feet wide, but twenty feet long. The stairs to the second floor were against the far right wall. There was an entrance to the basement in the back corner of the room.

"No place to hang any coats," Castiel said.

"There's the cubby," Dean said, gesturing to the right wall. Attached to the stairs was a small, three-foot-by-three-foot clove that looked like it could have been a closet, but was left open in the front and on the side. This was where Jess' work desk was. "Move the desk, get some command hooks and viola!"

"Command hooks," Castiel said. "Nice. Master decorator right there."

They moved through the archway that separated the living room from the dining room. "The archways are nice," Dean commented. "It's neat that if your standing on the front porch and you looked through the window, you could see straight into the back yard."

"Arches instead of doors don't mean open concept," Castiel said. "If you knocked this whole wall down separating these two rooms, then maybe."

"Well, good thing Jess asked me to do that, then, huh?" Dean said. "And besides, look at how cool it is that they've got an opening in the wall. Great for sightlines. Sam can be cooking and he'll be able to see all my little nieces and nephews playing in the living room."

"I've eaten Sam's cooking," Castiel said. "Sightlines aren't going to be the big safety issue if your brother's doing the cooking."

"Fine, then," Dean said. "I'll make this such an awesome kitchen that I'll come over and cook for them every night."

That caused Castiel to smile. He moved closer, knocking his shoulder against Dean's. "I've had your cooking, too. You can expect to put one more plate out every night if you're going to start moonlighting as a personal chef."

Dean grinned, knocked his shoulder back against Castiel, and opened the kitchen door that led to the mudroom. It wasn't on the list, and it functioned as it was supposed to: for coats and boots and storage; however, this room wasn't insulated at all. During the winter, they couldn't leave their shoes out here or they would freeze. Despite this, neither of them had any real comments for the space. It wasn't on the list.

The pair of them walked back into the dining room. There was another door off this room; it opened into the laundry room. On the other side of the laundry room, there was another small room that the couple was using for storage.

"Well, this is an awkward place for a laundry room," Castiel said.

"Yeah, but at least it isn't in the basement."

"Oh, the basement," Castiel said. "Let's go look at that."

Dean made a displeased sound – basements were always a notorious drain on his resources – and both of them knew what Sam's basement looked like. Walking down the ugly, basic wood stairs led them into an unfinished basement. The cement of the foundation was still showing; Sam had never made an attempt at finishing the basement on his own time because it had been known to flood when it rained heavily.

"I want to leave," Dean groaned.

"Before we talk about the pump that came with the house to help suck the rain water out of the basement?" Castiel asked. "Or before we talk about the fact that this basement is so terrible that your brother won't even keep his  _tools_  down here?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean grimaced. "Before all that."

"Oh, alright, then," Castiel said, leading their way back out of the basement. They walked up to the second floor. There were four doors up here. Two of them were as soon as they hit the landing – one to the left, one to the right – the second door on the left was a bathroom, and the master was at the end of the hall. For the sake of playing up their rivalry, they each took different doors. Castiel took the room to the right; Dean took the one on the left. "It's the nursery."

"Guest bedroom," Dean answered. He folded his arms across his chest and frowned. "Hey, Cas, come in here a sec." Castiel walked into the room next to Dean. The camera panned on the room. "Is it just me or does this not  _look_  like a guest bedroom?"

"Uh…"

"I mean, the bed's made, but I know my brother and his wife. I know how busy they are. Nothing in this room is dusty. I mean, it looks lived in." There was a closet in this room, but it wasn't into the wall; instead, it was built out two feet from behind the door. Dean walked towards it. "I swear, if I open this and there are actually clothes in here…"

"Have you seen the nursery yet?" Castiel asked, gesturing toward the hallway behind him. Dean turned to look at him, forgetting about the closet. Instead, he followed the realtor into the nursery.

Of course, Dean had seen the nursery before. Considering the Winchesters only knew about Jess' pregnancy for two weeks, it wasn't like they had the time to completely convert the space; however, this space had been dedicated for that purpose since they moved in. Sam and Jess had painted it neutral colors their first year in the house, adding cute things to the room whenever they found them.

There were shelves along the sides, but no actual baby furniture. There were pictures of Sam and Jess, of Dean, Castiel, Ellen, Jo, and Bobby too. Dean walked up to one of the shelves, fingers touching the small angel statue they had sitting over the spot they left open for the crib.

"Can't believe this space is finally going to be useful," Dean admitted, turning away from the angel to look at his co-host.

Castiel nodded, "I know they didn't ask for anything in this room, but… you should probably find it in the budget to get them a really nice crib. You know, so baby Cas doesn't have to look at whatever unstylish thing Sam picks out."

"Baby Cas," Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. Try baby Dean. Blood is thicker than water."

"Blood of the coven," Castiel said, opening the door. Dean walked out, and the pair of them walked into the bathroom. It was a decent size: a shower tub, a vanity, a toilet. There was also a storage shelf set up that had towels, washcloths, shampoo, and things like that in there. It wasn't on the list – even though it was a little old and dated now – but the co-hosts left without comment.

Finally, they walked into the master bedroom.

It was the entire length of the house – almost obscenely big compared to the other two bedrooms upstairs – and the space was being incredibly underutilized. They had a king bed in the corner off to the left, and a pretty decent sized walk-in closet to the right. They had a dresser placed opposite of the wall that the door was on, and a large TV on that dresser. There was a desk on the right side of the room across from the closet, but it was completely covered with papers. There were four bookshelves across the far wall, but even with them there and full, the room still felt bare.

"It has potential," Dean said, before Sam could even start. "If you put a gas fireplace against that wall and put some chairs around it, it almost becomes a little nook for nerds in the bedroom."

"Yeah," Castiel breathed, nodding like he could envision how beautiful that would be. "Too bad it isn't on your list and you're going to end up blowing the whole budget on the basement."

"I swear to you right now, Cas," Dean said, putting his hand over his heart like he pledging. "I will not waste all my money in that basement. The basement is a want, but not a need. The open concept main floor, the bathroom, and the kitchen, those are the things I need to do to get them to stay here. Trust me. When I'm done with this place, they're going to love it all over again."

"Sure," Castiel said, offering Dean a cocky smile. "But when I find them the house of their dreams, they're going to forget about whatever you did here. They'll list it for sure."

"Aaaaand cut," Ed called. Harry was quick to listen to his partner, but it wasn't like any of the other crew followed them around. They were pretty much talking to themselves. "Alright, dudes. We only have one scene left to shoot. That's when they tell you your budgets."

Harry checked his watch. "We're going to film that in an hour when the homeowners – er, your brother and sister-and-law – get back."

"Hey," Ed said. "Here's an idea, since we've got some time to kill. Why don't you make some refreshments to eat on the porch? Their porch is really nice… it would make the perfect place for the meeting."

"Uh, how about no," Dean said. "Who even are you, anyway?"

Ed laughed and Harry said, "Awesome. We'll go set up the shot, you two get the lemonade." The cameramen were quick to leave the master bedroom. Dean sighed, and Castiel grinned.

"You do make really good lemonade."

"I know," Dean said, crossing his arms. "It'll make a nice shot, my ass. Those punks just wanted me to make it for them."

"Well then," Castiel said. "I guess it would only be fair if you made enough for the entire cast and crew. Make-up, production. Everyone. Have fun with that."

"What do you mean, 'have fun with that?'" Dean said, putting his hand on the center of his friend's back, pushing him out of the master bedroom and down the hall, toward the stairs. "I know you live on wine and take out. We've got an hour to kill. I'll teach you how to make my famous lemonade. But don't tell Sam. I told him it was a secret so he'd keep me around."

"He isn't going to abandon you, Dean," Castiel insisted as they walked down the stairs. "He didn't when he got married, he won't because of the baby, and he certainly won't when he moves."

"That's 'cause he ain't moving."

"I won't move him far, Dean," Castiel said quietly. "I know he's your brother, but he's my best friend. You may think I'm heartless because I can look past the sentimental value people put on the memories they have in their houses, but I'm not. Sam's friendship has been one of the very few positive things I've had in my life, and I can't lose that."

Dean's hand moved from Castiel's back to his arm. With a quick grab, the pair of them stopped walking in the middle of the dining room. The realtor tugged his arm weakly, but not enough to pull it from Dean's loose grasp.

"Right here and right now, me and you need to get something straight, okay?" Dean said. Castiel didn't respond, but Dean continued anyway. "I know we always want to win, but this one can't be about winning, okay? If you find them the perfect home, even if it's an hour away, you show it to them. I'll do what I can here, but this has to be about them. Please, Cas. I just want what's best for my baby brother."

For a long time, neither of the men said anything. It should be awkward, the long, silent look they shared together, but it wasn't. It never was, and neither of them knew why. Finally, Castiel nodded. "I'll do anything for Sam."

"Thanks, Cas," Dean said, letting go of his co-hosts arm. "And just for that, I'll even teach you how to make a turkey caprese sandwich. I used to make them for my dad when he was on sights during the summer. They're so much easier than you'd think."

In the end, Castiel didn't really learn how to make a sandwich. He ended up cutting up the watermelon instead, but he did stand behind his earlier statement. If Sam stayed and Dean designed an awesome kitchen, Castiel wouldn't feel bad about putting on a few pounds eating Dean's food every night of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions) and Jill (somanyjimifeels)  
> My Tumblr: talesfromperdition


	4. Chapter 4

 

**Chapter 4**

Sam knew something was up as soon as he walked up his house. Ed and Harry had the cameras in place, but they were back by the production truck with Kevin. The three of them had glasses and sandwiches in their hands, even though all of them had eaten at the Roadhouse not that long ago. He knew what the food meant, as did Jess. His wife seemed to come alive again, shedding off the exhaustion of the lengthy legal talk in favor of climbing up her porch steps to approach the co-hosts.

There was always something bizarre about Dean and Castiel sitting together like civilized humans.

Sam stayed on the sidewalk for a moment, looking up at his brother and friend. They were sitting at the porches' table – a nice, glass table that had candles on it (and Sam knew that neither he, nor Jess, put those there – next to each other. It looked like this was their house, the way Castiel was smiling behind his glass of lemonade and Dean was gesturing with his sandwich. They looked like long-time partners laughing together after a long day's work.

And, okay, Sam knew that Dean had a major hard-on for his co-host, but this wasn't the same as the flirting disguised as rivalry. This was something else entirely. There was something in the way both Dean and Castiel turned to Jess when she approached them – they way they stood like gentleman, wiping their mouths and hands on cloth napkins that Sam was pretty sure he didn't even own, before reaching out to her to greet her – something that screamed that they were inviting Jess into their home, rather than inviting her back to hers.

Sam had seen their little moments before – when Castiel or Dean got too drunk and they would let the other one lean on them as they walked back from the bar, the way Castiel had hugged Dean at John's funeral, the time that Castiel stormed out of his parent's house when they brought up Anna for the thousandth time and Dean went after him – but nothing showed their potential quite like this.

True, this episode was all about him and Jess. Sam knew he would be banned from working on his own house so Dean could keep the surprise, but that didn't mean that Sam was banned from being a little brother who was emotionally invested in the well-being of his friends.

"Sammy," Dean called from the porch, and the younger Winchester up to his house. He sat down next to Jess – Castiel poured both of them some lemonade to complete the shot – and grabbed a chunk of watermelon. "If you get poisoned, Cas helped."

"Rude," the realtor said, sitting back down.

"Oh, good," Kevin called, walking from the truck to the porch. "You're back. Now, listen. We only have this last shot to do today then we're all free to go. It shouldn't take long."

"We're set," Harry called from behind the camera.

"Good," Kevin said again. "I know you all know this by now, but Cas, you tell them the value of their house. Then you tell both of them the budget for the reno and the new house. Ready?"

"Action," Ed called, and Kevin sighed behind him.

"After walking through the property, I definitely saw how this space wasn't working for your family anymore," Castiel started, shifting seamlessly into the arrogant realtor. "I've had an evaluation done on your current house, and the value is $500,000."

"That's more than we paid for it," Jess said.

"Well this is an up-and-coming neighborhood. Unfortunately, what that means is that while the value of this property has gone up, so has the value of the houses in this area. So now I need to know what your budget is for finding your new dream home."

Sam and Jess looked at one another, then Jess said, "We can do $650,000, tops."

"Like, Cas, said," Dean cut in. "You might have only asked for four things, but they're four big-ticket items. So before I can start planning on making this place amazing again, I'm going to need to know my budget, too."

"I know how much renovations cost," Sam started, running his hand through his hair and looking down. "And I'm not in denial about how much the basement is going to cost. But with the baby on the way, we really can't come up with more than $60,000 right now."

Dean nodded, but Sam could see the look in his eye. Their basement regularly had water in it in the springtime. It was a wildcard, and that was before they had a look inside the walls. "If I don't run into any problems that will be enough to do everything."

"We have faith in you, Dean," Jess said, reaching her hand across the table to touch her brother-in-law's hand.

"If you have faith in him," Castiel said, equally well aware of how hard Dean's job would be with that budget. "Who has faith in me? Aren't you the one who wants to move, Jess?"

She laughed, reaching out her other hand to grab Castiel's. "I have faith in you too, Cas. Right now, we can't be sure whether we will want to stay or go by the end. But we know both of you will do your best to make us happy."

"We'll just have to choose what house is the best for our family when the time comes," Sam said. "It's anybody's game."

"So good luck, boys," Jess said, taking her hands away from Dean and Castiel's to sit back.

Ed called cut – Kevin, annoyed by a long day of shooting, told him to knock it off – and the production crew started packing away their equipment for the night. As the people moved around on the grass, the four of them remained sitting on the porch.

If Sam thought something was up when he first walked up to his house, that was nothing compared to sitting down with Dean and Castiel. They must have talked during their walk-through (Sam would look through the footage later to see if it was captured on camera), because they were acting differently than Sam had seen them for a long time.

It wasn't until the crew was gone, and the four of them had drank all the lemonade and eaten the rest of the sandwiches that Sam realized what it was.

They weren't acting like rivals; they were acting like a unified pair.

Castiel took care of everyone's glasses, Dean took care of everyone's plates, and they stood side-by-side at the sink, washing their mess. Sam was completely flabbergasted; he had no idea what was going on.

And he wasn't the only one who noticed.

Jess had her nose pressed against the window, looking through her living room and dining room doors to see them in the kitchen. After a while, she turned back to Sam and asked, "Be honest with me here… are those two finally together?"

"Uh…" Sam started to say, but at that moment, Dean sprayed water at his co-host, and Castiel didn't react like a new lover would. It was playful, flirting, and Castiel didn't look angry, necessarily, but he moved away from the sink, suddenly on-edge. Dean called after him, but Castiel made some excuse, walking away. Sam and Jess turned to each other, pretending they had been talking and not spying just in time for Castiel to walk out to the porch.

"I'm going to…" Castiel said, gesturing down the street toward his house. Sam and Jess nodded. "I'll… uh… I'll probably be back tonight. If the reno starts tomorrow, I should get my last good night's sleep until this is all over."

"Sure, Cas," Jess said, forcing a smile and reaching out to him. Castiel flinched away, tensing up and moving down the stairs. "You're always welcome here."

The realtor still looked tense and exhausted; he forced a smile and nodded, walking away. A couple of minutes later, Dean finished up the dishes and walked out. He looked nearly as bad as Castiel had, and he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I guess I'll head out too. Big day, tomorrow."

Sam could read his brother really well. He could practically smell the rejection coming off of him. "Yeah, alright," Sam said. "Good night, Dean."

The married couple watched as the designer walked off down the street, in the opposite direction Castiel had walked in. They were quiet for a couple of minutes longer – long enough for Dean to make it down the block and out of their sight – before Jess spoke up: "Sam, we have to do something about them."

Sam could do nothing but agree.

* * *

 

Castiel sat on his kitchen floor, his back to the wine fridge with Balthazar in his lap. It was barely eight o'clock, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't go over to Sam and Jess' house. He just hated going over early enough when the couple might still be awake.

As he scratched behind the cat's ears, Castiel wondered if he should call home. He didn't really like any of his family members – a couple of them were okay, but mostly they just added to the stress he felt – or maybe he could call Anna.

Balthazar looked up at Castiel with lazy, bored eyes. He was sure the cat could smell his anxiety; Castiel imagined if Balthazar could talk, he would beg the realtor to leave. He was sure Balthazar loved having free reign when he was gone.

In the end, Castiel realized that he had to suck it up and go over earlier than his dignity would like. He let Balthazar escape his lap – the cat moved into the living room, playing with one of his many toys as if he were reassuring Castiel that he would be fine and not bored without him – and he grabbed his laptop.

He never went to Sam and Jess' without it – he always promised himself that he would get some work done before he went to sleep, but never did – and without packing anything else, he locked his apartment and left.

It took Castiel no time at all to walk to Sam's house, and even though it wasn't raining, he felt like a drenched, dejected puppy when he stood on the front porch and knocked on his friend's door. He hardly had to wait before Sam opened up, barely sparing his friend a glance before moving back to let him in.

Castiel didn't know if he was more embarrassed by Sam's silence or grateful for it, but with a small, thankful nod, the realtor turned right and started walking up the stairs. He took the first door on the left, walking into the guest bedroom, and he shut the door behind him.

There was definitely a reason why this room looked more lived in than a typical guest bedroom.

In addition to the closet Dean almost opened earlier that day, Castiel also had clothes in the dresser. The realtor took his laptop bag from his shoulder, sitting it on the floor next to the bed, before he moved to the small dresser and pulled out one of the pairs of pajamas he kept there. He had a number of suits in the closet; half of his wardrobe would end up here if he didn't insist on taking it with him.

Sam and Jess were kind enough to open their home to him a couple of nights a week; he couldn't bear the thought of them doing his laundry, too.

Even just removing his clothes seemed much more natural in this house. He dressed quickly, hell-bent on getting as much sleep as he could tonight. Who knew when he'd have a decent night again?

Castiel was just pulling the light blankets back on the bed when there was a knock on the door. A few seconds later, Jess walked in, holding two mugs in her hand. The dark-haired man got into bed, sitting against the headboard, tucking the blankets in around him as his friend sat down on the edge of the bed, extending one of the cups to him.

He took it, graciously.

"I know you really don't want to talk about it," Jess started, and Castiel took a sip of his tea. "But we're going to be out of the house for weeks, Cas. You can't go weeks without decent sleep."

"I can sleep in the office," he said, refusing to meet her eye.

"You need a different place. When was the last time you actually slept a full night at your apartment?"

"When did Dean have the thing with the single mom who did yoga?" Castiel asked. "Like, two months before that."

"Cas…"

"Look, I know, okay. I couldn't sleep at home with my family and I can't sleep when I'm in the apartment alone. I was fine for a while after I got Balthazar, but now…" He sighed, feeling the warmth from the mug seeping into his fingers. "I don't feel comfortable there. I don't feel comfortable anywhere but here, or in the office…"

"You always look so comfortable on set, too," Jess said. "In all those big houses… you never look uncomfortable on TV."

"I don't think I could sleep in any of those houses, either," Castiel admitted with a sigh, drinking some more of his tea.

For a long while, the friends sat silently on the bed. When they did start talking again, it was about other things: the baby, Jess' work, Sam's need for a haircut. Initially, Castiel knew that Sam was a blessing – he was the best roommate, the best friend, a man could ask for – but it turned into a miracle with Jess. She had never shied away from him; she never told him he was a burden.

Instead, she welcomed him with open arms.

Castiel wasn't sure when he'd even lied down, but next thing he knew, he was fighting to keep his eyes open and on his friend. His empty mug had long sense been abandoned on the bedside, and Jess stood to lean over him.

"Good night, Cas," Jess said, putting her hand on the side of his head. His eyes shut instantly, and he wasn't aware he was so starved for contact. He relaxed into her touch. She brushed the hair from his face, leaned down, and kissed the side of his head. "Sleep well."

She picked up his empty mug on her way out, turning off the lights, and shutting the door behind her.

Jess was long gone when Castiel managed to whisper, "Thank you." At least, he was pretty sure he said something. He fell asleep nearly as soon as he was alone.

* * *

 

At this stage in the show, the hosts started working on their own things. Dean had seen Castiel working the housing market before, back when they were friends but not co-hosts. Castiel's part of the job was a lot of boring behind-the-scene calls and internet searches to find listings. Sure, some of the houses were really cool and beautiful, but there was a reason why most of Castiel's screen time was during tours and not during the research phase.

People liked to see the fruits of Castiel's labors, but they liked to watch Dean's labor.

Before meeting with Jo, Dean had a rough outline of Sam's house made based on the blueprints. He made a couple of notes in red pen – "open concept," "remodel kitchen," "1st floor powder room," and "I fucking hate basements" – just to remember what it was that his brother asked him to do. Occasionally, Sam and Dean would be walking through the tour right now; Dean would note what the plan was to Sam while Jo would adjust the blueprints. With Sam promising to stay away, it was just Dean and Jo.

Normally, Jo was Dean's assistant. They always walked through the houses together, Dean babbling his ideas while Jo made the transformation on his iPad. They would pick out some of the things together, and she was the only person he trusted to get the materials he asked for. She was a vicious dealer, and she wasn't afraid to yell at the laborers.

She even made one of the big, burly men cry once.

As many times as Dean had walked into a house with Jo by his side, it still felt weird walking into a house without Sam – walking into  _Sam's_   _house_  without Sam – and knowing he was supposed to completely redo the first floor.

Because there was nothing to film yet with Castiel, both Harry and Ed were on location. Kevin was too, but he was back in the van, looking at shots from the day before. Jess and Sam were both there, waiting out by Kevin, watching what the plan was going to be.

When the show was spliced together, it often seemed as though Dean chose a plan and went with it, but the homeowners were obviously involved. Until it came to aesthetics, every idea was run by the homeowners first. The last thing Dean wanted to do was to convert a space into something else and have the clients hate it.

Jo walked up to the house with Dean's iPad in her arms. He knew Jo would be as spot on as she always was; he'd known the girl since they were kids. She would step on his toes when he needed for them to be stepped on, and she would leave him and his design alone if it was a good plan. She technically wasn't taking over for Sam – they'd get another contractor to help Dean with the bulk of the labor – but even though she was a series regular, that this was her usual job, Dean couldn't help but feel like she was somehow taking Sam's place.

Walking into Sam's house, without Sam…

Dean opened the door. Harry and Ed were already inside. "Alright," Ed called. "Ready? Action!"

"Let's start with the main floor," Dean said. "First, let's blow out these walls separating the living room and the dining room to create a nice, open concept. Right now these rooms are sort of weirdly shaped, but with the walls gone, this will be a bigger space."

"Right," Jo said, deleting the walls on the app. Dean looked over at the screen, seeing the open space.

"I can tell you right now," Dean said, knocking his hand against the wall to the right. "This is a structural wall. See how they have a pillar right in the middle of the drywall here? We're probably going to have to run support beams under the second floor with this wall down. Or a pillar; we'll have to get both options priced. The layout of the living room is going to have to work around that pillar if the hidden support isn't possible."

"Yeah," Jo agreed, frowning at the space. "I would say that we could put the entertainment space on the left wall where the wall was, but because the door is closer to the right side, it would be like walking into a dining room, and that's kind of weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, turning around to judge the space. "We'll have to see what the space looks like without the wall before we have anything set in stone. As for the rest of the space, new paint, new floors, and let's turn that cubby into a closet."

"Alright," Jo said, marking it down. The pair of them moved on to the kitchen.

"The kitchen is kind of small," Dean admitted. "I mean, it isn't tiny, but the only way we could fit an island in here is if we blew out the wall and extended the kitchen into the dining room a few feet. Then we could put an island long ways."

"Hmm," Jo looked forward. "I'm not sure. That might just make the kitchen look even more cramped."

"I know," Dean said, rubbing his hand through his hair. "But Sammy loves the eat-in kitchens we do. I thought if we put an island in, we could get stools to go up to the island."

"The kitchen's way too small for that, Dean," Jo said, and Dean cursed under his breath, knowing she was right. "Does it have to be an island? Look, if we move the refrigerator against the left wall, we can continue the counter tops from the stove down to the wall between the kitchen and the dining room. With the wall gone, we can add counter-space where the wall was, then add the chairs there. It'll give the illusion that the kitchen is bigger."

Dean didn't even need to think about it. He just wrapped an arm around Jo's shoulders and said, "That's my girl."

Jo grinned – beamed, really – and demolished the kitchen walls and extended the counters. She even put little chairs at the bar. The pair of them moved into the laundry room.

"This room is actually decent for what it is. Let's just do some minor touch-ups and add storage solutions to the far wall opposite the washer and dryer," Dean said.

"Got it."

"And the only place for a powder room would be this room," Dean said, walking through the small laundry room to the space hidden behind it. "I mean, it's weird to walk through the laundry room to get to the bathroom, but it isn't like we have any other space."

"Yeah," agreed Jo. "It's not big enough for any other room. Right now it's mostly clothes from their laundry room."

"Actually," Dean said. "This might be big enough for at least a three-piece washroom."

"I agree," Jo said, adding the new details to the app. She turned to Dean and grinned. "All that's left now is the basement."

"I freaking hate basements," he sighed, but the pair of them walked back through the living room and down into the basement anyway.

Finished basements were awesome. They added great square footage for a family – adding an entire floor's worth of space – but something always went wrong for Dean in the basement. Sometimes, low air ducts couldn't be hidden easily and cheaply. Sometimes, water damage warped walls and ruined foundation. At least he didn't have to worry about Sam fucking up anything down here with any Do-It-Yourself projects. They might have done some work in the house, but neither of the Winchesters ever touched Sam's sometimes flooded basement.

"Okay, here's the thing. Sam and Jess didn't give us enough money to do everything on their list. We could give them the first floor  _or_  the basement, but not both, and Sam knows that. We'd have to dig up the whole yard and do a drainage system to keep moisture from seeping into the structure, and that's not including whatever surprises we could find down here. Let's try to save money wherever we can upstairs, and if we have any left, we might be able to water-proof the basement," Dean sighed. "That way, when he decides to love it, all the major work is behind him."

"Well, except the framing," Jo grinned. "And the drywall, and the floor, and the painting, and the…"

"Yeah, shut it. Alright, let's see what the homeowners think of the plan and schedule the crew to start working tomorrow."

"You got it, boss," Jo said.

Ed and Harry forgot to call cut, but the take was obviously over when they moved their cameras off their shoulders. The pair of them were chatting about Harry's fiancé as they left the basement, and Dean sighed, crossing his arms to look around at the space. "I wish I could give him this."

"Dude, it isn't exactly uncommon for basements to get water in them here," Jo said. "Plus, Sam's doesn't flood as much as my mom's does. Since he got the new pump-thing, it didn't get any water at all, does he?"

"No," Dean said. "But it'll still be an issue. It doesn't look like they have any damage, but the houses here are built sturdier with the water table so high in this part of the valley. Still, we might have enough left over to water proof it. I just wish I could give him a kick-ass mancave."

"Well, if we left Sam's home completely finished, he'd end up going crazy. No matter what Jess says about wanting a move-in ready house, Cas could bring them a Barbie dream home and Sam would be compelled to change something with it. Especially now that…" Jo cut herself off, and frowned at Dean. The elder Winchester knew something was up – that she was trying to hide something – but instead she said, "Especially now that they're going to have a baby."

"What's a baby got to do with Sam wanting to renovate shit?" Dean asked, frowning back and his friend.

"Uh…" Jo closed the iPad case and tucked it under her arm. She took a step backwards, toward the stairs. "You know. The baby's going to be crying and Sam's gotta try and escape that, so he'll run off and cut some lumber or fix something. Man stuff, you know."

"Uh huh," Dean said. "What's really going on? What  _else_  is going on with Sam?"

"Nothing. And I gotta start calling the guys about the… the demo. So, uh, bye, Dean," she said, pushing the iPad back at Dean – so he could go over the specs with Sam and Jess – before she practically ran out of the basement.

And Dean wasn't an idiot. He knew something was up, but as he walked out of his little brother's basement and then out of his house, he couldn't – for the life of him – think of what else Sam could be hiding from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions)  
> My Tumblr: talesfromperdition


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

To be honest, Dean didn't think much about the fact that Sam wasn't going to be tearing the house down with him. He spent most of the day drawing up sketches of the kitchen, coloring and detailing the counter-tops that screamed Castiel far more than it screamed Sam and Jess, but Dean had a preferred style, and that happened to mesh well with Castiel's preferred style more than it did the couple's.

Sue him.

Sam always seemed to like it when they did something different – powder blue cupboards or sharp, deep red living rooms – but Dean and Castiel both preferred the modern look. They liked contrasts, blacks and whites, something that looked better in theory than in practice.

And considering Sam was about to have a little mess maker running around, white anything didn't sound like a good idea.

He was still up in his head – rather, trying to get Castiel out of his head – when he showed up to start the demolition the next day, completely forgetting that he wouldn't run in to Sam at the house. Instead, Jo met him at the door, frowning because apparently, he was late.

"We could have started demolishing already," she chastised. "But you always insist on taking the first swing."

"What can I say?" Dean asked. "I like the demo."

"You were supposed to be here early today, if you don't remember, because you have to meet the new lead contractor," Jo sighed, opening the door to Sam's house. "Luckily, you already know her."

"Who is it?" Dean asked, but the designer could see into the house. Sam's furniture had already been moved out of the way. Carpets, technically, could have started coming up, but Dean did like to do the first dent in the house. It looked so bare in there, so weirdly empty, that it didn't seem like Sam's house at all. He could hear the crew around the corner, and he saw the new head contractor as she moved from behind the wall separating the dining room from the living room. "Dorothy?"

Dorothy grinned, moving forward to punch at Dean's arm with one hand, holding a sledgehammer in the other. The designer couldn't help but smile back. "Hey Winchester," she said. "Still just as pretty as ever, I see."

"What are you doing back here?" Dean asked, taking the sledgehammer that she offered him like she was the queen offering him a sword. "I thought you were building houses for munchkins or something."

"Still an ass, too. Who would have thought that," Dorothy said. "We set up the cameras in the corners. There isn't any hidden pluming or electrical in this wall, obviously, because there's no light switch to turn on an overhead light in the living room. Seriously, Dean, what's up with that?"

"I didn't build the house, Dorothy," Dean said, walking toward the interior wall just in front of the door. There were a handful of other crew members on sight already, who moved into the living room and stayed clear of the cameras. They usually used Dean's first hit in the montage of clips of the demolition process. The designer moved the safety goggles from his belt and put them on. "But I can damn well tear it down."

The girls moved back, sliding on their safety goggles as well. When Dean turned around to make sure everyone was clear, he brought the sledgehammer to his shoulder. With one last check to the camera – Ed and Harry both seemed to hate filming in the house when it was being demolished due to the debris in the air – Dean turned back toward the wall and swung.

One hit into drywall didn't really do much to take the whole structure down, but it was a start. With Dean making the first hit, the crew started moving around him, grabbing the tools they would need to strip the house down. Jo moved over to the stereo, hitting the button and filling the house with music. Dean sighed – back when their dad was working with them, it was classic rock radio – but since Jo had become Dean's assistant, she had somehow gotten control of the music.

Although Dean would never admit it, her pop hits from ladies usually had a pretty decent beat to demolish too.

Dean switched out his sledgehammer for a crowbar – this wall probably didn't have a lot of things hidden in the walls, but others would and crowbars were just easier and safer to work with at the beginning of a demolition, even if sledgehammers did look cooler – and got to work. Jo stayed and watched for a few minutes before she moved back out to the porch – Dean had emailed her sketches of his designs for her to start pricing – and Dorothy took the wall on the other side of the living room.

It was nice, hearing the sounds of a house opening up around him, and it was why he always insisted on being a part of the demolition and reconstruction processes. He knew most designers didn't get their hands dirty, not like he did, anyway, but it was a part of it that always lowered his stress. He loved destroying things, knowing in a matter of weeks, it would be far more beautiful than it ever was when it started.

* * *

Castiel got to the house an hour before Sam and Jess were supposed to arrive. He had already scoped the house out the day before, looking around and memorizing the layout and selling features, and while it met all of Sam and Jess' must-haves, it didn't feel like their home.

It was three parallel streets from his current house, but it wasn't really the same neighborhood. They would have to cross a larger road, and even if it was a ten minute walk, it could easily double that due to traffic. The other side of town wasn't a bad neighborhood – it was still in the same school district – but it felt far away, different, and Castiel wasn't sure how Sam and Jess would react to it.

He was there early enough to unlock the place and make some minor alterations to the space. He wasn't that good at baking, but anyone could light a candle and set out cookies or brownies that he bought from the store downtown. Flowers were always an easy way to make a house seem more beautiful with a minimal amount of work, and if there was a fireplace or a hot tub – this house had neither, but if they  _did_  – he would get those going.

Honestly, a realtor didn't sell a house. He sold the potential of a home. It wasn't lying – the homeowner could decorate the house however they wanted – more so, it was just the realtor showing the potential buyer what this house  _could_  offer. Having it look cozy and lived-in was how many realtors had success.

It was how Castiel had had success in the past.

But he didn't want to do that to Sam. Sam and Jess would be busy with a baby, and unless they consulted Dean and dropped even more money, their same furniture would be moving in to the house they moved to. Castiel couldn't see his friends living in this house.

Still, he had a job to do. He walked in to prepare the house.

About forty-five minutes later, Castiel walked out onto the houses' porch to see Sam and Jess standing next to the make-up van with Kevin. They were chatting easily together, Sam looking well rested and not covered in a layer of debris for once, and Jess seemed to be glowing, even though wasn't sure how far into the pregnancy expecting moms seemed to glow. His own mother never glowed; she was continuously pregnant, popping out a new kid pretty much every spring just like a bird or a rabbit, and she probably lost her pregnancy glow around her sixth or seventh kid, long before Castiel was born.

But Jess, she looked beautiful.

The couple left Kevin and walked to Castiel on the porch. They would still need to film shots of them approaching the house, but that could be done later. Instead, Sam grinned at him – a nervous little smile – and said, "You know this is the first time we've ever looked at a house with a realtor. The other one just sort of fell into our laps. It's kind of a big deal, right?"

"Well," Castiel started, then frowned. "I'm not sure if you'll actually like the house, and since neither of you have been involved with this aspect of the show before, I should probably tell you some things. First, we show three houses on the show, but we never only view three houses. Finding a perfect home takes work, and the first few are always lackluster. We might be friends, but I have to figure out your specific styles on top of your must-haves to find your dream home."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Jess said, still smiling.

"I can almost guarantee that this isn't your dream home," Castiel went on, gesturing behind him. "But every listing is a learning experience. I need to find out what you do and don't like, and the only way to really do that is to show a bunch of bad houses first. Now, we're all friends here, and if you don't like something, you have to tell me. I'm sure Kevin told you to not be afraid to yell at me, but… I think good natured teasing always works better than anger."

"Got it," Sam said. And Castiel looked around his tall friend to get a glimpse at Ed. He was gesturing wildly, reminding Castiel to do the approaching shot before they went into the houses, and with a sigh from the realtor, the trio obliged. After that was shot, Ed and Harry got into position and Castiel opened the door to the first listing.

"As you can see," Castiel said as he ushered the couple in before him. "This house opens into a small foyer. There's a nice sized closet to your right, which has ample space for coats and boots during the winter." Jess popped her head into the closet, looking at the space, but Sam frowned.

"It's… is it kind of small in here?"

"Uh," Castiel looked up at his friend. The ceiling was high enough, not twelve-foot or anything, but a standard eight, but when Sam turned around, the hallway was kind of thin. "Well, most people aren't built with shoulders like yours."

"What's wrong with my shoulders?" Sam asked, and Jess laughed.

"Anyway," Castiel said, pointing down the hall. "If you keep moving, this space opens up to the back wall of the house. There's a large, eat-in kitchen back there." They walked into the kitchen, and the couple started looking around. "This house has decent sightlines into the living room and the formal dining room."

"It's not bad," Jess agreed. Because of the walls from the hallway, she would need to move to the left or to the right to see into the rooms, but for the most part, it wasn't blocked off. Sam ran a hand through his hair. "But we don't really need a formal dining area, you know."

"We don't entertain much," Sam said. "Unless it's you and Dean, and we could fit the four of us at the kitchen table."

"For now," Castiel said. "But what happens when there are two or three little kids running around this place? Trust me. You're going to want formal dining and a grown-up living room once you see how a couple of kids take over everything."

"That's a good point, too," Sam said, but Jess turned around, looking out the windows to see the back yard.

"That's kind of small, Cas," Jess admitted, leaning forward to get a good look. "And not very private. There's no fence around the back yard or anything."

"You don't have a fence around your back yard now," Castiel said. "On the sides, yeah, but not in the back. The people who live behind you could just run into your yard if they wanted."

"Nobody's lived in that house for years," Jess reminded him. "I definitely want a fence if my kids are going to be playing outside."

"Alright," Castiel said. "A fenced in back yard. I can find that, no problem. Want to check out the basement?"

The entrance to the basement was in the kitchen, but the stairwell was kind of small for Sam. It was narrow and short – he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it – but surprisingly, neither of them commented on that fact right away. The basement was finished, but it wasn't amazing. There was a family room down here: a TV, a couch, some toys. There was a bathroom to the left, and the washer and dryer were under the stairs.

"I don't really like the laundry room being in the basement," Jess admitted, crossing her arms. "Moving up and down two flights of stairs with a heavy load of laundry reminds me of college."

"I don't know how I could carry laundry down here, either," Sam said. "I can barely fit  _me_  down here."

"Okay, okay," Castiel said. "The basement doesn't do it for you. But can you at least admit that it's an upgrade from your previous basement? I mean, this one doesn't flood."

Sam and Jess shared a small, sheepish look, and then Jess nodded. "Okay, I can admit that. Can we see the second floor?"

The second floor continued much like the first two floors. There wasn't a lot of work to do, and when Sam or Jess found fault with something, it had to do with aesthetics over functionality. The bedrooms were kind of small, but the master did have an on-suite, and Castiel completely forgot that the main floor didn't have a powder room and couldn't believe that Jess and Sam didn't bring it up.

Overall, as Castiel was leading the pair back down to the kitchen to talk money, he knew he'd had better first listings, but he knew he'd had way worse, too. He knew this house wasn't there home – he knew the couple well enough to know what would suit them when he saw it – but he still had a bad feeling about this episode. It was dangerous to mix personal and professional relationships like this.

Their show,  _Love It or List It_ , had been popular enough to get a spin-off. The other realtor and the other designer had been mortal enemies prior to filming, and their tension made a great rivalry to watch. Anyway, one time, the designer's assistant went on the show. It turned explosive for a few awkward, tense moments, and even Castiel and Dean hadn't been sure if the girls were fantastic actors or if feelings had really been hurt.

If Castiel learned anything from that episode, it was that it was dangerous to make a show when friendships could be put on the line. Everything seemed square between Castiel and Dean – he didn't feel like beating him was the priority – but he was afraid he wouldn't be able to find Sam and Jess a good house, something they deserved.

Castiel remembered the way the assistant had talked to her girlfriend after a showing and said,  _"Why aren't they listening to what we want? We're supposed to be friends."_

He needed to be able to please Sam and Jess. He needed to be able to find them exactly what they were looking for. He wanted to help them more than he wanted to help any of his other clients.

Castiel put his hand on the countertop in the kitchen and asked, "What do you think this house is listed at?"

"I think $650,000," Sam said. "Right on budget?"

"I, uh… Maybe 625?"

"The price of this house actually comes in under-budget at $600,000," Castiel said. "Even by moving out of your neighborhood a little bit, the price for something a little bit bigger goes down. And I understand you want bigger rooms on the second floor and a fenced in back yard, but that's all part of the learning process for me. I'll use that information to find another listing."

"Cut!" Ed yelled, and to be honest, Castiel had almost forgotten he was there. Kevin was still outside, so Ed took charge. "Alright, we need the confessionals now. Jess and Sam, we'll do yours first. Basically, you'll stand on the sidewalk and discuss the house briefly. Cas, we'll get yours after."

The cameramen started walking out, but Jess stayed behind, putting her hand on Castiel's shoulder. "You're doing fine."

"I do this for a living, you know," Castiel said, running his hand over the smooth countertop. "I've found hundreds of people homes. It always starts out rough, you know."

Jess smiled. "I know. Thanks for helping us with this, Cas. I wouldn't trust anyone else."

Castiel continued to look down as she walked away, but once he heard the front door shut, he looked up. They were gone; he was alone in the house.

He balled his hand into a fist and dug out his phone. He could find something better. He could.

* * *

Dean was covered in debris and normally he showered before he met the homeowner, but Sam and Jess had seen him like this a thousand times – Sam figured – because he was standing on the porch, grinning, not caring that the cameras were rolling and he didn't look perfect.

It had been two days since Sam had seen the inside of his house, but he trusted Dean as much as he trusted Castiel. Well, maybe he trusted Castiel a little more than he trusted Dean, but that was because he had worked closely with Dean his entire life and knew that his elder brother could get something in his head that wouldn't leave. Once, he thought it would be a great idea if he did the whole living room of a house this ugly shade of purple and thank  _God_  that Jo managed to beat some sense into him.

"Alright, guys," Dean said. "We just finished opening up the main floor, and so far we haven't run into any problems. That's really awesome, but I would say that we're cautiously optimistic, because things tend to become a problem at the worst possible time, but anyway, come check it out."

Dean walked back into the house, and Sam and Jess followed. It was strange seeing Dean this excited – he took pride in his work, sure – but his enthusiasm was contagious; just walking into the house and looking around made Sam grin.

The house was stripped of its drywall, but four walls were gone. From where he was standing in the living room, he could see straight back into the kitchen; it made the space look huge. Sam turned to look at his wife, and she was grinning up at her brother-in-law.

"Wow, Dean, this is fantastic."

"I know," Dean grinned, wiping the sweat from his forehead on the back of his hand, smearing dust onto his skin. "How was your first listing? Cas hit a home run?"

"The two of you need to talk more," Sam blurted out. Jess frowned at him, squeezing his hand in some sort of warning. "I mean about the show. What's the point of not knowing what each other's doing?"

Dean frowned at him, putting his hands on his hips and looking out at the work he'd done knocking the walls down in Sam's house. "It's not that we don't talk, you know. But I'm always on site and he's always researching or showing listings. We catch up; we talk. It's just busy the first couple of weeks."

Sam tried not to look at his brother. Their relationship hadn't really changed in ten years. Dean pined away, throwing out compliments and flirtations like he was paid to do it, but Castiel never took the bait. He always kept his distance from Dean, always insisted to Sam that he not tell Dean about his trouble sleeping or his family problems.

Castiel always tried to keep Dean at arm's length: never closer, never farther away.

Sometimes, though, he would slip.

Sometimes after a night of drinking, Castiel would lean on Dean in the back of the taxicab, resting his head against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his friend. Sometimes, when Dean wasn't looking, Sam caught Castiel looking at him with one of the softest expressions he'd ever seen on his friend's face, a sad sort of longing look that convinced Sam that there was a reason Castiel tried to keep Dean away.

But sometimes, Dean would flirt and Castiel would practically run away.

Dean wasn't the one Sam would need to work on; he needed to figure out Castiel.

"Just be nice to him," Jess was saying, and Sam wasn't sure what he'd missed in their conversation but Dean looked equal parts desperate for the information and uninterested in whatever Jess was saying. "He's like a little kitten that was ignored by his litter and had to try and survive on his own too soon. The two of you aren't exactly different, you know. You just… cope differently."

"I don't cope," Dean said. "I don't need to cope. I'm fine."

"You spent, like, five years hooking up with random strangers," Jess said. "And you haven't been with anyone at all since the show started."

"I have too been…"

"Dean," Jess said, patting his arm. "You don't have to tell him that you're in love with him or anything. Just call him and ask him how the listing went. Ask him how his cat is. Show him what you've done in here. Just talk to him. You don't have to spend all your nights sitting at your apartment alone. He hates being alone as much as you do. The two of you could be alone together."

Dean didn't say anything, but he did put his hand over Jess', and that was a victory for Sam.

* * *

Castiel woke up to the sound of someone sitting on the couch perpendicular to the one he was sleeping on, and he really wanted to roll over and fall back asleep, but he could smell the coffee and feared turning his back on the only person who had a key to his office.

"What time is it?" Castiel asked, opening his eyes to look up at the man. Crowley smiled down at him from behind a cup.

"Don't worry, angel. I let you sleep in. It's nearly nine."

Castiel barely had the energy to sit up, but the other realtor always made it perfectly. It was a struggle to sit up, and his head was throbbing, but Crowley ignored it in favor of doing something on Castiel's laptop. His tablet was attached to it.

Crowley was the realtor on the spin-off of their show. His office was directly next to Castiel's, even though he usually dealt with people who wanted to live on the ocean front or in the mountains; for some reason, his clients' budgets ranged in the millions, but that was fine with Castiel. Crowley was more personable, somehow.

Technically, their show was just called,  _Love It or List It, Too_ , but nobody called it that. The fans started calling it  _King vs Queen_  over a year ago when the show started, and both Crowley and the designer Abaddon played their mutual hatred for each other up. Castiel was bitter that Crowley and Abaddon were never on online poles about whether or not they would be getting together, unlike Dean and himself.

He wasn't sure when their rivalry morphed into sexual tension, but the viewers saw it. It embarrassed Castiel to no end.

"I got you a little present," Crowley said. "Since your home away from home is currently in disarray. When was the last time you were able to sleep, angel?"

"I sleep fine," Castiel said, grabbing for his coffee. He kept the blanket around his shoulders. He saw the look Crowley gave him, but he ignored it. "The coffee's good. Thanks."

"I'll tell your little loverboy the brand," Crowley grinned, unplugging the tablet and handing it over to Castiel. "That way he can make it for you in the mornings. You'll still think of me though, right?"

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked down at the screen. He nearly choked on his coffee – barely kept from dropping the mug – before he sat it down and pushed the tablet away. Crowley caught his wrist before he could drop it on the table, and he pushed the tablet back toward the other realtor.

"If he didn't want to be seen, he wouldn't have filmed it," Crowley said, and Castiel swore to God he was burning alive. He couldn't help but look back down.

It was the raw footage of the demolition of Sam's house. The camera wasn't moving – it was placed in a corner – and it was focused entirely on Dean. It was later into the demolition; the crowbar had been abandoned for the sledgehammer to get the rest of the drywall down.

His co-host was in jeans, but he had abandoned his shirt. It was just footage of his back – how his muscles moved as he swung the heavy object, and how his shoulder blades moved as he pulled the sledgehammer from the wall to hit again – but his back was sweaty, coated with a layer of debris, and Castiel knew that he needed to close the tablet and look away but he just  _couldn't_.

"That's the thing I don't get about you," Crowley said, leaning back in the chair, taking a bite of a donut. "You have a raging hard on for the guy, and I know you have since you were in college, and the dude is a walking sex machine, yet you have never tapped that ass. Tell me, Cas, are you a virgin? I'm sure Dean would be gentle if you asked him to be."

"No, I…" Castiel finally tore his eyes away from Dean, and he hated the grin that spread over Crowley's face. "Dean's my friend."

"We all have friends, angel," Crowley said. "Sometimes we fuck our friends. It's fine, you know. I've actually met some of your brothers, and it's not like they would stone you for having a bit of fun. I mean, take Gabe for instance…"

"No, let's not take Gabe for instance," Castiel winced. "Let's take nothing for instance. Dean is my friend, and I'm not going to…" He couldn't believe Crowley had a face that was more suggestive than it already was, but there it was, and Castiel couldn't believe he could be more embarrassed than he already was, but he was sure he was going to combust. "I know Dean, okay? I know him very well. I've seen his girlfriends and his boyfriends, but I've never seen any of them more than one or two times. If I just… I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"You're boring," Crowley said with a sigh. "And you're naïve. And you're going to die with a boner for your best friend, alone and probably due to some complication of insomnia because you're too afraid to even  _dream_  about having your best friend."

"That's not why I can't…"

"Bullshit," Crowley said, and Castiel looked down at the tablet again. Dean was talking to Dorothy, wiping his sweaty face on a towel. He rubbed it over his chest – absently, like he wasn't aware he was even doing it – and Castiel finally closed the case on the tablet and pushed it away.

Thankfully, Crowley didn't say anything else. The realtors just sat there in silence, drinking their coffee and eating their breakfast. When Crowley did get up to leave, though, he handed Castiel an envelope.

Once he left, Castiel locked the door to his office, put the envelope on his desk, and went to the bathroom. He had never been more grateful that his bathroom had a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions), Jill (somanyjimifeels)  
> My Tumblr: talesfromperdition


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

A week into the remodel, things were looking great but Dean knew not to trust a century old house. With everything gutted and knocked down, it was time to start building it back up again, starting with the main floor powder room.

Dean might have had contracting and carpentry in his blood, but he wasn't a plumber. He left Dorothy to deal with their plumbing guy, and Dean went on a field trip with Jo to look at some countertops.

When he got a call from Dorothy, he knew it wouldn't be good news.

And of course, when he walked into the shell of Sam's house, he found that his new lead contractor was leading him down into that freaking basement. It was always the freaking basements. More than anything, Dean hated being filmed like this. He knew he could come off harsh, like an asshole, and he always tried to hide his frustration. He always tried his best to seem personable and friendly on camera unless the homeowners were rude to him first. But this was Sam's house – his little brother's – and he couldn't relax the muscles in his face. His arms were crossed, his feet were apart, and he was barely able to contain himself. Normally, he was pretty mad when his budget was eaten up by a problem in the house; this time, he was furious.

"Dean," Dorothy said, reaching out to touch his arm but deciding against it and letting her hand fall back to her side. "This shouldn't even be surprising to you. We were just trying to set up the pipes for the new powder room, but when we went to attach them… The clay piping has tree roots growing through it. Yeah, it's going to set us back a bit, but…"

"We don't have the money for this," Dean said, digging his fingernails into his arms to keep from lashing out and slamming a fist against the concrete or Harry's stupid camera.

"We put money aside for problems," She insisted. "This happens with every old house. Time and the elements tick away at it. It's okay; we're still going to…"

"This isn't just anyone's house," Dean yelled. "This is my little brother's house. I wanted to make it perfect for him. I can't do that if I have to fix the freaking pipes. And what's going to be next? I fucking  _hate_  basements."

"Dean," Harry said. "Watch your language, c'mon. Family show."

"I don't care about the fucking show right now," Dean shouted, turning around and walking back toward the stairs. When he reached the wall, he balled his hands into fists, but managed to keep from swinging. The wood would break his hand; how would he be able to work on the rest of the house with a broken hand? "Fix it, Dorothy. We can't move on without fixing it. And if you follow me, Harry, I swear to God I will kill you."

Harry didn't follow him. Normally, Dean would leave the house, blow off some steam when he got angry or frustrated. They would have to cut part of the clip to the moment right before he started swearing, but Dean couldn't feel guilty about it now.

Instead of leaving the house, the designer climbed up to the second floor. Nothing had been touched up here – not yet, anyway – and Dean walked into the nursery. He sat down on the chair, under the angel figurine, and closed his eyes.

He didn't get back to work for hours. Not until after lunch time, when he heard Charlie's voice drifting up from the main floor, talking with Dorothy as the couple went out for lunch. Not until after all the other people left too, and not until Jo showed up and yelled through the house looking for him – he wasn't  _hiding_  by the way, she knew where he was, but she knew him well enough to leave him alone – and not until Jo left again.

But when everyone came back after lunch, Dean was in the basement, ripping out the old piping. Nobody mentioned it as he helped the plumber change out the clay for sturdier piping, and by the time dinner rolled around, everybody acted like they had forgotten about the designer's blowup.

It was nice of them, Dean knew. And he was grateful.

* * *

Castiel couldn't sleep.

He was lying in bed with Balthazar curled up on his chest. The cat was warm and he was purring as the realtor dragged his fingers through his fur, but as comforting as it was, he still couldn't just close his eyes and drift off.

They filmed every showing Castiel took Sam and Jess on, but they wouldn't use the footage for all of them. It wasn't like Castiel had three tries to find a dream house; no, he had a month, just like Dean. They were a week down now, and at least he could blame this bout of sleeplessness on the stress of his job.

It was only just past eleven o'clock at night, but he hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.

His office was fine in a pinch, but after Crowley let himself in and gave him the footage of the demolition, Castiel was afraid to sleep there, afraid of what the other realtor might bring him as a gift. He was worse than Balthazar that way, and Castiel frequently got dead mice and birds left for him on the kitchen counter, as if the cat was afraid that the human weren't eating along with not sleeping.

Castiel always made sure to thank Balthazar; Crowley was a different story.

The realtor would blame it on his exhaustion on his oversight, but one minute he was lying down with the cat and the next minute he was walking down the street with only vague memories of putting on his shoes and locking up the house. They were distant, like he was watching a movie rather than doing it himself.

His feet carried him dutifully to Sam and Jess' house, muscle memory completely taking over for any cognitive thought. Somehow, he managed to gain some control when he looked up at the house. His feet stilled, eyes taking in – but not really processing – the container filled with wood and debris and old carpeting. The siding was missing in some places, around the windows, and it took the realtor an embarrassingly long time before he remembered the renovation.

Desperately, he tried to recall Sam and Jess' must have list for Dean. They didn't ask him to fix the guest bedroom, so the upstairs might not have been touched, but it was one thing to let himself in with a key that his friend had given him; it was another thing entirely to walk into a house undergoing renovations and sleep there.

Besides, he wasn't sure how early the crew would be back the next day. He couldn't exactly risk going in there, sleeping, and getting out before any of the crew showed up and found him.

He was just so tired.

Castiel knew better than to sit down on the porch – Sam had found him sleeping on the swing once, before he had given him a key – but he couldn't muster up the energy to turn around and walk back home. Instead, he stood on the sidewalk for several long minutes, looking up at the house.

It was a beautiful house.

The porch was pretty large, and the four of them had spent many summer nights talking and drinking out there, watching the cars go by. The front of the house was symmetrical. Some people might find that boring, but Castiel loved the aesthetics of it. Normally at a time like this, all Castiel could think about was the retail value and how it would increase as Dean remodeled, but right now, all Castiel could think about was how the home was already beautiful.

Dean's magic touch would only be icing on the cake.

Sam and Jess would stay, Castiel knew. He could show them the Taj Mahal, and they wouldn't move. Well, okay, the Taj Mahal would be over-budget. But Castiel could show them the best house possible within their budget and they still wouldn't leave. The realtor didn't blame them; if this were his house, he wouldn't want to leave either.

He already didn't want to leave, and it wasn't even his house.

He didn't want to go back to his apartment and watch Netflix all night. He didn't want Balthazar to feel obligated to stay awake with him – or sleep on him – just to keep him company. He didn't want to break into a bottle of wine in the hopes that if he got drunk enough, he'd eventually pass out.

He just wanted to sleep.

Castiel wasn't sure how long he stood there, looking up at the house, but he was suddenly knocked out of his thoughts when the front door opened. For a moment, Castiel thought about running away before he was caught. He twisted his body to the side, but his heavy legs refused to cooperate, so instead, he just watched as Dean walked out of the house.

It was hard to see the co-host in the shadows, but Castiel tilted his head, looking at his friend as the man locked up his brother's house. It was late, Castiel knew, and Dean shouldn't still be here. Sometimes they worked into the night, yes, but not one week into the project. When Dean finally turned around and faced the street, Castiel saw him jump, then scowl when the sight of him took Dean by surprise.

"Damn it, Cas," Dean said, walking forward. Once he was under the street light with Castiel, the realtor noticed he was covered in a layer of sweat and grime. Castiel remembered the demolition video on his tablet and bit his lip, refusing to look at his co-host anywhere but the eye. "What are you doing here?"

At first, Castiel couldn't say anything. He opened his mouth, but words wouldn't come. Dean knew he had trouble sleeping occasionally, but Sam promised not to tell about how frequently. Dean's arms hung at his sides; Dean looked as exhausted as Castiel felt. His face was void of a smile, cocky or anything. He looked older around his eyes in a way Castiel hadn't noticed before.

There were a hundred excuses, a hundred lies, that Castiel could tell him, but instead, he said, "I couldn't sleep."

"So, what? You went for a walk?"

"I'm the one sleeping in his guest room, Dean. I can't sleep in my apartment. I… I forgot his house was being worked on. I just… I'm so tired."

Castiel's feet finally responded to the message his brain had been trying to send. He took a step back, away from Dean, and turned to walk back toward his apartment. He could grab his subway card and make it to the office – he didn't dare drive when he was this tired – or he could even take the bus. But he felt a warm hand close over his wrist, and it stopped him in his tracks. He didn't even try to pull away.

"If you need a place to crash, you can sleep at my house."

"I don't know if I'll be able to," Castiel admitted. "I don't want to keep you awake."

"C'mon, Cas. It's that or what: you'll go back to your place and definitely not sleep? It's worth a try, isn't it?" Dean squeezed his wrist, and Castiel looked up at his friend. "Besides, it's been years since I had a slumber party. Sammy'll be pissed that he missed it, though. I know how much he likes to have his hair braided."

When Dean tugged on his arm, Castiel couldn't fight it. He didn't want to fight it. He walked with Dean to his house.

They were quiet on the way, and at this hour, in this neighborhood, it was quiet on the street, too. Castiel enjoyed the pressure on his arm, the way Dean moved with Castiel captured so effortlessly in its grasp, until Dean dropped his wrist. Then, despite the summer air, Castiel felt cold.

Dean lived on the second floor of the apartment – he wasn't crazy about heights – and Castiel tried to move his tired feet up the steps.

The designer's apartment was familiar to him – not quite as familiar as Sam's house – but he knew the layout at least as well as he knew his own apartment. Dean didn't have a mudroom, but neither did Castiel, so when they opened the door, they walked right into the living room. The designer was covered in dust, but Castiel put his laptop bag to the side and took his shoes off. Dean just walked in, causing disaster in his wake.

When Castiel stood back up, he watched the designer move from the living room to the small kitchen area, kicking off his boots in a way that seemed dangerous – Castiel would have fallen and hurt himself moving that much – but Dean caught the edge of the counter with one hand, holding himself steady as he took off the other boot. His hands went behind his head, bunching the material of his t-shirt. Castiel saw a glimpse of skin as Dean took his shirt off, but turned away, looking at the book shelf.

"Hey," Dean said, and Castiel looked at him. It would be rude not to. The designer was wiping his face on his shirt, not looking the least bit embarrassed about ripping his clothes off in front of his long-time friend, and Castiel was determined not to make it awkward. When Dean moved on to wipe his arms, Castiel's eyes stayed on Dean's face. "I really have to take a shower, is that okay? I mean, I don't want to just leave you sitting here or anything, but…"

"I'm fine," Castiel said, picking up his bag and taking deliberate steps toward the couch. When he sat down, he couldn't see Dean anymore, but he could hear him moving closer.

"You can watch TV or something. I swear I'll be fast."

"I have a difficult time sleeping," Castiel said. "I don't need a babysitter."

"Oh," Dean said, voice small and unsure and close. Castiel could see their reflections in the TV. He saw the way Dean folded his arms and frowned, itching at the dried sweat on his neck. "You want some pajamas or something? Some blankets and a pillow? I'll, uh… I'll get them for you before I…"

"I won't be sleeping by the time you get out," Castiel turned to look at his friend and forced a smile. "I'm fine, Dean. Honestly. You don't have to worry about me."

"I always worry about you," Dean said, reaching out a surprisingly clean hand to pat Castiel's head. The realtor did not try to move toward his touch. Dean's tone was friendly, casual, but it made Castiel's insides clench. "But fine. If you think you're finally a big boy, I guess I can leave you alone for ten minutes. Although, I will say that the last time I left you alone for ten minutes, you ended up blackout drunk."

Castiel groaned. "That was at Sam's wedding."

"You told me you were a big boy then, too," Dean grinned. "But I still rubbed your back as you puked."

The realtor grabbed the remote, turning it out to drown out the sound of his friend. Dean laughed and moved away, calling over his shoulder that he wouldn't take long, but Castiel was already flipping past the infomercials, trying to find something decent to watch.

He'd likely be up watching it all night.

* * *

There were a hundred thousand questions Dean felt like spitting at the realtor; though to be fair, not all of them were questions. Some were angry comments that he kept on his tongue, too afraid to open his mouth and let them out. He knew Castiel had a hard time sleeping sometimes, but why wouldn't he tell him? Why didn't he tell him?

Dean put his hand against the shower wall, looking down, letting the water hit the top of his head and run down his forehead. He had to close his eyes, but when he did all he could see was the image of his friend, standing out under the streetlight. The man had looked frazzled, sleep deprived, and Dean couldn't believe that he hadn't seen it before.

The designer tipped his head up, rinsing off his face and turning around to let the jet hit his back. The water going down the drain had long since turned from dark to clear – Dean wasn't sure how he always ended up so filthy; nobody else ever seemed to get that dirty during the renovations – and he made quick work of using soap to clean the sweat under the grime. He tried to rush through shampooing his hair. He was afraid that by the time he got out, Castiel would have left to find somewhere else to sleep.

They lived in a good neighborhood, but Dean was afraid to let him walk around in that state. When Dean grabbed him by the wrist, he just  _went_. He didn't fight at all; anyone could have led him anywhere.

But even though he was trying to hurry – his mind was  _screaming_  for him to hurry and get back out there – his body was hesitant. Castiel would be gone. He never stuck around. Dean knew he made Castiel feel anxious; Dean couldn't help but flirt, and it made his friend feel awkward. And the designer knew himself well enough to know that when he got back into the living room, if Castiel  _was_  still there, Dean would end up doing something to cause more stress for his friend.

In the end, his mind won out over his body. And ten minutes after he got in, he was turning the water off and stepping out onto the towel he left on the floor. Dean tried to dry himself quickly – he could hear Jimmy Fallon playing through the bathroom door – but swore when he realized he hadn't brought and clothes to change into. He shot a look at the dirty jeans he had been wearing, but instead decided to wrap the towel around his waist.

He felt like he was in high school again, opening the bathroom door as quietly as he could so he wouldn't alert Sam or their dad, or even sometime after, trying to quietly gather his clothes so he could leave without his partner waking up. This was different – Castiel was both family and very much  _not_  at the same time – and walking out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel would push his friend away.

Castiel left in a hurry if Dean winked at him. This would be catastrophic.

He wasn't being particularly quiet, he didn't think. The door squeaked as it was opening, and when he took a step from the ugly linoleum in the bathroom to the ugly carpet in the living room, the floorboards creaked under his weight. Dean froze, looking toward the couch. He could see Castiel's head on the throw pillow – he could see his hand resting on the remote on the coffee table – but his friend didn't turn toward him, so Dean snuck to his room and shut the door.

Dean Winchester had only gotten dressed faster once in his life. That had been when Sam came into their house after school, yelling about dinner, while Dean had been in his room with Rhonda Hurley. The pajamas fit loosely – they were a pair Sam had gotten him at college – and he threw on a zip-up hoodie over his bare chest.

While he was in his room, he grabbed one of those itchy, cheap electric blankets with the satin sewn into the top. They weren't heavy blankets, and for some reason, Castiel loved the stupid things. Now that he thought about it, it was the same type of blanket on the guest bed at Sam's house; he should have been put two and two together before now.

He almost called out to Castiel as he walked from his bedroom to the living room, but when he opened the door, he kept his mouth shut. Whatever easy joke or flirty comment he would have would do more damage than help. He was going to keep his damn mouth shut for once if it killed him.

But he stopped when he walked up behind the couch and looked over. Castiel was lying down, his hand still on the remote on the coffee table, but he was asleep. For a long moment, Dean couldn't help but look. Compared to how strung out and exhausted he looked before, he looked utterly relaxed down, and Dean was afraid to wake him.

He moved quietly and slowly, kneeling down next to the table to try and lift Castiel's wrist and move it back to the couch – that had to be uncomfortable, and it might hurt if he slept like that for hours – but as soon as Dean lifted his friend hand, Castiel pulled it to his chest and rolled over, facing the back of the couch.

Dean couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. Instead, he just spread the blanket over his friend, tucking in the open side of the couch around Castiel's back to keep the central air from causing a draft, and turned the volume down on the television. The designer shut off the living room light, but he didn't move back to his bedroom, not yet.

What if Castiel woke up and wasn't sure where he was? Dean would just sit with him for a minute, just until he found something to watch to fall asleep to in his room. He sat down on the arm chair next to the couch, zipping up his hoodie and put the hood over his head.

Jimmy Fallon wasn't terrible, Dean thought. Castiel liked Seth Meyers better, but Dean liked Craig Ferguson. But Dean could get behind Seth. They used to watch them, Dean remembered, Sam and Castiel used to watch SNL every Saturday night together before they started their show.

They should do that again, Dean thought. Their old favorites were gone, but Cecily was pretty awesome on the Weekend Update desk. And Aidy was hilarious. Yeah, Dean thought. They should do that again.

* * *

Castiel's phone was ringing.

He knew it was – he could hear the familiar, annoying chirping sound that was rarely ever woke him up – and even though he was still groggy, he couldn't help but smile.

He woke up with his alarm clock.

When he reached a hand out to silence the thing, he heard a soft groan – it didn't come from him, right? – and accidentally smacked his hand against some wooden thing. Sam's guest room didn't have anything next to the bed, and Castiel opened his eyes to see what he had struck.

He wasn't in Sam's house.

For a second, Castiel panicked, unsure of where he might have fallen asleep. The morning news was on the TV – on a familiar TV in a familiar room – but Castiel only relaxed a little bit at realizing where he was. Falling asleep at Dean's apartment usually involved a lot of alcohol the night before, but he didn't have a splitting headache, and he didn't remember drinking.

"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean groaned, and Castiel turned to look at the arm chair. The designer's eyes remained closed, and he tried to pull his hood down lower over his eyes. When he settled back down into the chair, it looked uncomfortable. Did he sleep there all night? "Shut the fucking alarm clock off."

The realtor fumbled with his phone for a second, and when the sound was gone, Castiel was aware of how silent it was. Images were flickering across the TV, but at some point, Dean must have turned the sound all the way down. The light was shining in through the curtains, but Castiel couldn't hear any traffic or birds.

The only thing he could hear was the way Dean's breathing calmed and became uniform as he fell back asleep.

Castiel checked the time.

He had a showing at noon, but it was still early. Castiel lay back down, pulling the blanket over his shoulder. He was sure he wouldn't fall back asleep, but there was nothing wrong with resting his eyes, right?

* * *

Their fucking phones were on silent.

Sam had shown up at the office that morning to take Castiel to breakfast before the showing, but he hadn't been there. Charlie and Crowley both confirmed it; Castiel hadn't slept there that night. And that was fine. Sometimes he didn't. Sam tried calling him on the way to his house, but he didn't answer.

Balthazar greeted Sam as he let himself into Castiel's apartment with a spare key. The cat had food, and he followed Sam around, meowing, as the younger Winchester looked for the realtor. His laptop was gone, and Sam rushed out of the apartment and to his own house.

He tried calling Dean to see if Castiel was on site. He didn't answer.

Dorothy, Jo, and some members of the crew were already there when Sam opened his front door. They tried to usher him out, but he just climbed the stairs and threw open the door to the guest bedroom. He wasn't there either.

"Sam, Dean is going to  _kill you_  if you don't –" Jo was yelling, but Sam waved a hand, dismissing the claim.

"Where is he?" Sam asked. "In the basement?"

Dorothy frowned. "He isn't here yet. It's only, what, ten in the morning? I think he was here really late. A ton of work was done after we left last night. He's probably just catching up on some sleep."

"Yeah, alright," Sam said, running his hand through his hair. "I'll check his place. Hey, by any chance, have you seen Cas?"

"We don't usually," Jo said, narrowing her eyes at Sam. "Are you saying you lost Dean  _and_  Cas?"

"I'm saying neither of them are picking up their phones, and Cas isn't in his office or in his apartment."

Jo and Dorothy were quiet for a second, and when they turned to look at each other, Sam felt the temperature rise. He knew what they were thinking – everyone who had ever seen the show would probably think the same thing – but he knew it wasn't happening. They wouldn't be together. They were never together without him.

"So next place to look would probably be Dean's apartment?" Dorothy grinned.

Jo mimicked the look, patting Sam's shoulder. "I'd start with the bed, big guy."

"Ha, ha," Sam mocked, and the girls laughed as he left. For a summer day, it wasn't that hot yet. Sometimes it could get to be eighty before nine, but as Sam jogged from his house to Dean's, it would have felt leisurely if it weren't for his panic.

Castiel  _wouldn't_  be at Dean's. He wouldn't. And that meant he was missing.

Occasionally, Castiel would try to sleep in a hotel. He'd be calling all over the city of the bastard didn't turn his phone on.

Sam started yelling to his brother before he got the door open, fumbling with the keys – seriously, why did he have a set of keys to both of their apartments anyway? – and when he finally won the battle against the lock, Dean was at the door trying to shush him.

It was too late. Sam looked past Dean's shoulder and saw Castiel sitting up on the couch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The taller Winchester threw a look at his elder brother – Dean had a stupid, pleased grin on his face – but Castiel took one look at his phone (at the dozens of missed calls, Sam hoped) and stood up, starting to freak out.

The Winchesters had always been good at dividing and conquering.

Sam rushed to his friend, putting his hands on his shoulders to settle him back down again. And it was easy to do – far easier than it usually was when Dean somehow managed to frazzle him – with the smell of the breakfast Dean started cooking.

"I'm sorry I worried you," Castiel said, sinking into Dean's couch like he belonged there, like he was comfortable there, and Sam tried his best to hold back a smile. "I, uh, went to your house. Dean brought me here."

"Did you sleep at all?" Sam asked, turning the volume up on the TV as if he didn't really care about the answer.

"Yeah, actually," Castiel said, turning to look over his shoulder, toward the kitchen. Sam followed his sight path; Castiel was looking at Dean. He kept his voice low, like he was afraid that Dean would hear him. "I slept very well."

Sam had been dealing with Dean his whole life – and he'd been friends with Castiel for the past ten years – and he knew when to blow on the fire, he knew when he needed to be the firefighter, and he knew when to sit back and let it simmer.

And Sam was quiet through breakfast, content to listen to Doctor Sexy reruns and watch the tentative, little looks that Dean and Castiel threw each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions), Jill (somanyjimifeels)  
> My Tumblr: talesfromperdition


	7. Chapter 7

 

**Chapter 7**

In the week that followed, Sam noticed some really unusual changes in his brother and his friend. Dean – despite having to waste a chunk of money on the pipes – was smiling and unstressed, offering to cook dinner at his apartment for the couple and Castiel a couple of times a week or offering to pay for pizza if they didn't like that idea. The surprise came when Sam and Jess, exhausted from a day of showings, opted to go back to their hotel room and just crash, but Castiel nodded and followed the designer back to his apartment.

Jess moved closer to Sam on the subway, a frown etched on her face as she asked, "Are they fucking? I can't tell if they're fucking."

Sam sighed because, to be honest, he wasn't sure either. Well, he was  _pretty sure_ , anyway. He was pretty sure that they weren't. More often than not, Sam seemed to be Dean and Castiel's alarm clock, and even though Dean had moved from the arm chair back into his bedroom, Castiel was still sleeping like a log on Dean's couch every morning.

Castiel hadn't looked that good since college.

It was small changes for the first few days – less make up covering the bags under his eyes, only drinking coffee in the morning instead of practically having a caffeine IV drip attached to his hand – and the alcohol consumption didn't so much change in quantity, but even that looked different. There was something beautiful about watching Dean and Castiel sitting together on the couch, sipping wine and beer as they laughed their way through jeopardy.

But Sam didn't think they were a couple. Not yet, anyway.

"I mean, this is a good step, right?" Jess continued on, looking down the car at the other passengers. It wasn't incredibly busy, and nobody was paying the couple any attention anyway. "Dean isn't moping. Cas seems well rested. They're going to realize they've been stupidly in love with each other soon, right?"

"They're idiots," Sam reminded his wife. "I'm just glad they're acting like friends again."

"I suppose so," Jess agreed, uncrossing her legs to cross them the other way. She sighed and folded her arms over her stomach. "So… have you told them, yet?"

"No," Sam said. "I… how could I tell them? They're getting along. Cas is sleeping again. Dean is happy. I can't… they're going to be so mad."

"They won't," Jess said. "They couldn't have expected you to stay as the lead contractor forever. Everyone knows you hate it."

"I don't  _hate_  it."

"You do," Jess insisted. "Your back always hurts and you don't have the same passion Dean does for making things beautiful. Handing your spot over to Dorothy is a good thing, Sam. You'll be happier with your new job, and you'll be making more money."

At that, Sam grinned, wrapping his arm around his wife. "You won't be married to a TV star anymore."

"I don't care about the fame," Jess joked; occasionally people recognized Sam, but he wasn't the star of the show. He might have gotten two or three minutes of screen time an episode. "I care about the money."

"I knew you were only with me for my money."

"Well, I'm sure as hell not with you for your personality or your looks," she said.

Sam laughed, but when they fell quiet again, he felt like something had crawled under his skin. He needed to tell Dean and Castiel about leaving the show; he needed to do it soon.

* * *

Castiel was sitting at his desk when Crowley walked in. He had a cup of coffee for himself, but nothing for Castiel. The realtor ignored his colleague; he just kept looking at listings.

Somewhere close by, there had to be the perfect house for Sam and Jess. The showings weren't going amazingly, and since it had been two weeks without any real success, everyone was getting tired. Sure, they still had two weeks to complete the process, but looking at listing after listing was starting to frustrate Jess as much as it did Castiel.

He should have been able to find them the perfect home already. He was their friend.

"You look stressed," Crowley commented, sitting down in one of the leather chairs on the opposite side of Castiel's desk. "Trouble in paradise? Let me guess, that new beau of yours is into some kinky things."

"What new beau?" Castiel asked before he could stop himself.

"Well, Dean Winchester, of course. You haven't been sleeping here. I've checked your footage and I know you're not sneaking into the reno house to sleep there. And Charlie tells me that your hunky co-host has been picking you up in his beloved car. Let me ask you, Cas, 'cause we've had money betting on this forever: the car's an overcompensation, isn't it?"

"I don't know…" Castiel said, then frowned. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Sure, you don't."

"Dean and I aren't dating. We aren't anything. He's just letting me sleep on his couch."

"Every night for a week, he lets you just sleep on his couch?" Crowley asked, the fake amazement in his voice made Castiel clench his hands into a fist. He regularly wanted to punch Crowley, but he especially wanted to do so now. "I can't believe he isn't charging you sexual favors for rent, considering the massive boner he has for you."

"He doesn't… He isn't…" Castiel started, but Crowley held up a hand.

"You cannot argue the fact that he would have sex with you in a heartbeat, Castiel. He's been nothing but flirty and open to you since I've known the pair of you. If he's open, willing, and consenting, why not just shove it in?"

Castiel shut his laptop, making sure to grab it as he stood up. Last time he left it, Crowley ended up stealing a listing he had bookmarked for a different client – a perfect listing that would have had the buyers listing their old house for sure – so Crowley was not to be trusted. Not with anything. Not with this; especially not with this.

"You're an ass," Castiel said as he walked to the door. Crowley remained sitting; it wasn't like he didn't have a key. If Crowley wanted to raise amok in his office, he would have (and already did, once) done it already.

"I know you're looking for your One True Love and Prince Charming's kiss to break the curse of your insomnia, angel," Crowley called out after him. "But there's no need to waste a perfectly good short-lived fling just because of some stupid notion of a ruined friendship. Your dick will thank you."

Castiel was out of the door, into the hallway of the building when he yelled back, "My dick is  _fine_." He wasn't aware he had an audience until he heard Charlie giggling behind him. Red faced, he stormed past her, adding, "Don't ask," as he got into the elevator.

He couldn't work in his office. He'd go to the Roadhouse and have an early working lunch.

* * *

Dean could see Jo's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear any of the words she was saying. He hadn't been using any drilling tools without ear protection, and he couldn't figure out why he couldn't hear her, until he started focusing on his breathing.

He couldn't breathe.

It felt like he'd been punched, but he was pretty sure he hadn't been. His face didn't hurt – nothing really hurt – except that his lungs were screaming to be filled with oxygen. Jo had turned her attention to Harry and Ed, smacking at them and getting them to turn the cameras off. Dorothy took Dean's shoulders in her hands, shaking him, trying to get him to look at her. When he saw her apologetic, kind eyes, it all came rushing back to him.

The water damage had been worse than they'd originally thought. They were going to need to break up the concrete, make a trench around the parameter to drain the water, and fill it back up again. Not to mention, some of the wooden beams in the basement had nearly rotted away. The structure wasn't sound; the house could practically fall down on them at any time.

"Dean," Dorothy said, squeezing his shoulders. "This is okay. We're going to fix this and make the house alright. We won't be able to do everything, but…"

"Everything?" Dean asked, turning to look at Jo. The girl winced and looked away. "We've been trying to save a lot of money so we could work on the nursery and… the kitchen is already gutted, the walls are knocked down, and the bathroom has already been started. We didn't have a contingency for something of this scope. We're… We can't do that bathroom. We can't…"

"Hey," Jo said. "Take a walk, Dean. We'll get the guys in to start working on this. If we can't finish the powder room, then that's alright. He'll still love this house."

"But…"

"Seriously, Dean. Take a break."

He felt heavy, like he couldn't lift his feet or carry his side bag with all the designs in them. He had gone to the house to finally decide on the cabinetry and living room furniture with Jo, but he never even took the bag from his shoulder. Now it felt like a burden.

It was like a dream – well, more like a nightmare, really – that Dean walked out of the basement and stood out on the front porch. It was especially hot today, and despite the fact that he hadn't been doing any manual labor  _and_  had been in the freezing basement, Dean felt overly warm. He was nauseous with it, like he suddenly had a fever, and as he stepped down into the grueling sun, he felt his stomach drop.

It wasn't about the bathroom, not really. It wasn't about the basement being wet. It was the water damage. Sam and Jess had been sleeping in that house for years. It could have collapsed at any moment. It could have collapsed around them and Dean would be completely alone.

No Sam, no Jess. And Castiel slept there, too.

No Castiel.

The thought of it, of living without them for even a second, made Dean want to crawl inside a liquor bottle until he managed to die from it. He only loved three people. He couldn't lose them.

Even though he knew he should call Sam and tell him about the house, he couldn't break that news to them yet, not until he had control of himself. He pressed the call button and held the phone up to his ear.

Castiel picked up after the first ring with a quiet, muffled,  _"Dean?"_

"Hey, Cas… uh, how are you?"

"'M fine. At the Roadhouse for lunch. Care to join me?"

"Yeah, uh, sure," he turned to walk toward the bar, listening to the sound of his friend chewing and swallowing, still feeling empty at the thought of his potential loss. "Order me a burger. I'll be there in ten."

"Are you alright, Dean?" Castiel asked.

When Dean opened his mouth, he meant to lie, but everything came spilling out. He told Castiel about the basement, about how the money was gone and he couldn't do everything for Sam and Jess that his had promised. He told him about the beams, how everything could have fallen down around him and crushed him. Dean talked and talked, going on and on about how the  _one_  place Castiel felt safe was a death trap and that he couldn't believe nobody ever spotted it before.

He talked and walked, the sun beating down on him, until he looked up and saw Castiel.

The man was holding his phone up to his ear, jogging toward Dean with purpose. Once he caught sight of each other, they lowered their phones. Dean wasn't sure when he stopped walking – how he could be running into Castiel halfway between the Roadhouse and Sam's house – but suddenly, he was engulfed in Castiel.

The realtor hugged like he did almost everything else: full force. His arms were a solid weight around Dean's shoulders and arms, his chin was a welcome feeling on Dean's shoulder. And Dean could smell him too, a familiar scent of whatever expensive cologne the man wore and the faint onions on his breath from his burger. Castiel was rubbing his back, the heel of his hands and fingers moving in small circles over his shirt, and just feeling him there – knowing that he wasn't alone – nearly brought tears to Dean's eyes.

"Ash's making your burger," Castiel murmured – Dean could feel the vibration of his voice from where they were pressed together, chest-to-chest. "I boxed up mine, too. We'll go back to my apartment and eat them. I don't have a listing to show for the day, and Dorothy can handle the crew."

"So, what?" Dean asked, trying to sound normal but he could hear the flatness in his own voice. "We're supposed to go eat lunch with your dumb cat begging for my scraps?"

"He'll leave you alone if I ask him to."

"Everything about that sentence was really weird," Dean said, pulling himself away from his friend despite how every muscle in his body wanted to stay there, encircled by Castiel. The idea of losing him in a freak house collapsing accident was fading to the reality: Castiel was never Dean's to lose in the first place. Somehow, that seemed to hurt worse now that he had the realtor in front of him again. "Let's go. Your food's getting cold."

* * *

For the first night in a long time, Castiel slept well in his own bed in his own apartment. As proud as he knew he should have felt, he knew he was only able to sleep because he kept his bedroom door open, and the glow of the living room television reminded him that Dean was sleeping on the couch.

They had gotten drunk – too drunk – the night before, but when Castiel woke up with a killer hangover in the morning, he didn't exactly regret it. He could have regretted it very easily, but every time Dean pulled the bottle away and licked the alcohol from his lips, Castiel thought about Anna. He didn't make any regretful decisions – with the exception of leaning into Dean when his friend put his arm around him – and woke up in the morning in his own bed without Dean.

Well, without Dean  _with_  him in bed. Dean was still there. He'd already taken care of the blanket he'd slept with on the couch the night before and placed a bottle of water on Castiel's bedside. The realtor reached out to grab it; it was still cold.

Castiel Milton wanted to marry Dean Winchester. He stayed in bed, waiting for the feeling to pass.

By the time Castiel managed to drag himself out of his room, the feeling hadn't passed, but almost an hour had. In the end, curiosity won out. The television was off, but he knew Dean was still there. Occasionally, Castiel heard Dean say something rude to Balthazar when the cat jumped up on the table. Unsure what the designer could be doing by himself for that long without leaving, Castiel finally left the comfort and safety of his bedroom (since when had he ever thought of those two words and his bedroom in the same sentence?) to check on his friend.

Dean was sitting at the kitchen table with an empty cup of coffee and an empty plate filled with crumbs. It was almost as if the designer didn't notice Castiel had left his room; he was so engaged with the plans he was drawing that he was oblivious to anything else, even the way Balthazar was snoozing in the chair beside him.

Occasionally, back before his dad died, Dean would draw the same house over and over again. Sam told Castiel that he thought it was the family's house that burned down and killed their mother, but he wasn't sure. Sam had just been a baby and couldn't remember. Since then, Dean drew a new house. It was always different – sometimes the kitchen was in the back, others it was to the side – the layout always changed, but it kept the same characteristics.

These, Castiel always figured, were the plans Dean would use to remodel his dream house.

Looking over his shoulder, Castiel noticed some of the similar elements, and he definitely recognized the layout of Sam's house. The hardwood floors went through most of the house, but the kitchen flooring was lighter to offset the dark wood cabinets and the black marble countertops. Dean's beautiful vision included many appealing aspects that Castiel loved in a house: a bar in the kitchen, a wine fridge, an office space, a reading nook. The couches and chairs and rugs all aligned with Castiel's taste.

Castiel never really saw himself in any of the houses he showed other people. Nothing was ever prefect for him, but Dean… Dean was truly awe-inspiring.

"Those are the designs for Sam's house?" Castiel asked, and Dean turned to look at his friend. His hair was messy, but he looked well-rested. He looked handsome in a way Castiel had never taken the time to think about before.

"Well," Dean started, rubbing a hand through his hair. "It doesn't exactly scream Sam and Jess but I've tried drawing dozens of sketches with different color schemes and cabinetry, but it always comes back to this. I can't get it out of my head."

"It's stunning," Castiel said, taking the seat on the corner of the island. It wasn't his normal spot – it made him closer to Dean – but Balthazar had taken his usual place. "I mean, your work is always amazing, but this… this is something else."

"Yeah?" Dean asked, turning back to the drawing. "Since the basement's gonna take so much work, I won't be able to do the powder room, so I've got to figure out a perfect layout for the open concept. And it has to be cheap. I'm pretty much in the red at this point."

For a long moment, both of them were quiet. Castiel watched Dean sketch, trying his best to run the numbers in his head. "How much do you need for a bathroom?"

"It depends. If the budget is huge and they want an on-suite, it could be over 20k." Dean started sketching again. "Labor's usually the big part but I can install the fixtures with Dorothy. We'd just need a plumber to inspect it after. I was planning for one around ten with heated floors and everything, but I could get cheaper fixtures. I mean, it's only a powder room. Toilet and sink, tiling, you know. In theory that could cost less than a thousand if we went to Lowes. But there's nothing left, Cas. And I can't show a bathroom that cheap on the show."

Dean turned to look at Castiel and smirked – going to Lowes or Home Depot had been a regular insult Castiel threw at Dean in the early days of their friendship – but Castiel was looking down at the sketches. There was a powder room drawn. The fixtures were beautiful, tasteful, and Castiel loved it.

"I have some money saved…"

Dean was shaking his head before Castiel even got the words from his mouth. "I can't ask you to do that. Hell, I've got money saved. I live in an apartment. We're pretty successful, but I can't just finance Sam's reno. One, he'd be pissed and two, that's cheating."

"It would be cheating if we didn't agree," Castiel argued. "We could both go in a little bit, an equal amount. It would be a present for them."

"They'd feel like they'd have to stay if we spent our own money," Dean said. "There's no way any listing of yours would live up to that gift."

"Then so be it," Castiel said. "Besides, I'm not exactly having luck finding anything for them."

"You will," Dean said, turning back to his friend. Castiel tried not to look at Dean's lips, but the soft smile and the ease of the expression stole the realtor's attention. "You always come through at the end."

"Even…" Castiel started, then licked his lips and dragged his eyes up to Dean's. "Even so, we should ask them. We should extend the offer to them. I mean, if you wanted to."

"Yeah," Dean said, turning back to the drawing once more. "Sure. We can ask."

They were quiet for another long moment. Castiel was content to watch Dean sketch. He enjoyed watching Dean draw; he liked watching the curve of Dean's fingers and the way his wrist moved.

It was a little while later that Dean sighed, frustrated once more, and said, "Jo and I can't figure out how to layout the living room. It's kind of fucking with me at this point. I can't order couches and stuff without knowing how the layout of the room will go."

"I like your living room," Castiel said. "The one in your apartment. I like how the couch separates your living room from your dining room, but that you can still see the television from the table. Are you putting in a fireplace?"

"Yeah. Sammy likes them," Dean said, looking back at the plans, but as soon as he said it, he grabbed another piece of paper and started sketching. He seemed to understand what Castiel meant. As the realtor watched the designer draw, he occasionally put in his opinion about the color choice of something or the specific layout. Somehow, Dean made the images in Castiel's head come to life.

It had to be pretty amazing, Castiel thought, being able to create beauty like that. No wonder Dean could get families to love their old houses again. He'd never really understood it before.

* * *

Sam knew the frustrations of a renovation on the other side. They were always behind because something ended up changing the game plan and Dean always waited too long to order the cabinets. He knew what it was like to install in-floor heating when the cement needed to be redone first. He knew the headache of clay pipes, shotty electrical work, and basements.

Well, not  _his_  basement. He didn't realize how bad that was.

Dean told them off camera – thank God – because Jess started crying. It wasn't entirely her fault, Sam thought, and Castiel looked down at his shoes, ashamed, as if he were the one who personally caused the water damage to the support beams.

Sam knew what it was like on the other end, watching the homeowner blow up at Dean about wasting their money somewhere they couldn't see it. But he'd never known what it was like from this end. The panic he felt wasn't about a waste of money; it was about the potential danger.

And Jess was crying.

Suddenly, Castiel moved forward, lifting his hand to extend an envelope toward Jess. The woman took it, but wrapped her arms around her friend instead, holding him close. "I'm sorry, Cas," she said. "We put you in danger… I never knew… I would never have…"

"It's okay," Castiel said, patting her back and looking over her shoulder toward Sam. "Dean has it all fixed now. Statistically speaking, your house should be at its safest now. If there were any other problems in the house, Dean would have found them. And besides, it isn't all bad news. Dean and I wanted to give you a gift."

Sam watched Jess freeze for a moment before she pulled back, keeping Castiel at arm's length. She met Sam's eye and he knew his wife was thinking the same thing he was.  _They_  wanted to give them something. The two of them  _together_  were going in on something. Jess gave Castiel a suspicious look before she turned around and faced Sam.

She opened the envelope and frowned at the hundred dollar bills.

"Dean assures me that it will be enough to cover the bathroom."

Sam stepped toward his wife. "Cas, there has to be like, thousands of dollars. We can't accept this."

"No more than ten," Castiel continued. "We went in half. We make more than that for one episode, Sam. We could spend this money and still end up ahead for your episode. It's the least we can do."

"However," Dean added. Sam looked up and frowned at his brother. Dean had taken a step toward his co-host. He knocked shoulders with Castiel, and the realtor turned his head, giving Dean a sheepish smile. "You have to  _promise_  that this doesn't change anything. If you love another house, you have to list this one. It wouldn't be fair to you or Cas. Consider it an early baby shower present from us. You hear that, baby? Don't say your uncles never got you anything."

"The bones in the ear don't develop until week sixteen, Dean. He or she can't hear you, yet," Castiel said.

"You're a real buzz-kill, Cas," Dean said, throwing his arm around his friend. Sam watched with a frown still on his face. Castiel didn't pull away. Castiel  _always_  pulled away when Dean got too close, and yet, there they were, practically hugging and referring to themselves as  _uncles_. "Now, just tell everyone you came up with more money. That's how we'll film it. Nobody needs to know, right? Good. Now let's get some grub. I'm freaking starving."

Dean started leading Castiel toward the Roadhouse, his arm never leaving the other man. At least, not until it became awkward for them to walk and Castiel elbowed him in the side. "We just ate lunch a couple of hours ago."

"Hours ago, Cas," Dean called, pressing into Castiel's space to knock their shoulders together again. "Besides, Ellen  _promised_  to save us some pie, remember?"

Jess grabbed Sam's hand – he was so stunned at watching the (very obvious) courtship in front of him that he hadn't even started walking – and his wife started leading him down the sidewalk after his brother and his best friend.

Sam leaned over as he walked, whispering frantically, "Are they fucking? I can't tell if they're fucking."

"They're idiots," Jess said, squeezing Sam's hand with a grin on her face and an envelope full of cash tucked into her pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Bree (bowtiesanddeductions), Jill (somanyjimifeels)  
> My Tumblr: talesfromperdition


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